


The Rose Consort

by kasaru_chan



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Background Relationships, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2020-11-27 04:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20942369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasaru_chan/pseuds/kasaru_chan
Summary: Life has a way of taking us in unexpected directions.If you had told Lorenz a week ago that he was to be a consort to the crowned prince of Almyra. He would have laughed haughtily at your obvious jest.And yet here he was, about to do just that.And he was not laughing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's to hoping I finish this thing.  
(Stares longingly at unfinished Roji and Muhyo fanfic)
> 
> Fair warning, my track record is pretty bad.
> 
> Special thanks to Sigur and Bohemienne over on the discord. The latter for Beta-ing this mess and former for giving me a kick in the butt to write it.

To be clear, travel by Wyvern Carriage was _never_ ideal.

Lorenz Hellman Gloucester wasn’t exactly afraid of heights, but Wyverns tended to be a rougher ride than the common horse-drawn carriages or Pegasi ones that were favored highly in Fodlan.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have much choice in the matter, in more ways than one.

_“The King of Almyra has agreed to open their borders to trade with the Leicester Alliance,” Count Gloucester announced over their afternoon tea. He usually never brought up business during their weekly get-together, but for some reason today was different. Lorenz really should have seen it coming. Father never spent time with him unless he wanted something. _

_“That’s... great news, Father. Hopefully it will lead to further improved relations between us.” Lorenz hummed, taking a sip of his favorite rose blend. "And an end to skirmishes along the border." _

_His father looked up at him from his own cup. The two had the same shade of violet in their eyes, but on his father, it always looked just a tiny bit harsher. Lorenz had been on the receiving end of that gaze for a long time so long, in fact, that he had grown used to it. Even as Lorenz strived for perfection in every aspect that mattered, his father was always demanding more. _

_“Yes, but there is a small catch,” he sighed, placing his cup down. "The crown prince of Almyra has requested to take on a consort from Fodlan in exchange to form a political union."_

_"I see." How unfortunate. That there will be one less noble woman eligible for him to court. The pool was already thin enough as it was, and Lorenz was reaching the age where he needed to take on a wife--and fast. But circumstances being what they were, it was a wise gambit on the part of the prince of Almyra. Peace could be all but guaranteed with this union. But still, to be forced into marrying into a barbaric war-crazed nation... _

_"Who then is the unlucky soul marrying the crown prince?" Lorenz asked, taking another sip. He expected the answer to be the young Lysithea of House Ordelia with her failing health, or the lovely if lazy Hilda from House Goneril, who could charm even a stone to bend to her will._

_"Actually," Count Gloucester started, swirling his cup, and this, this was the reason he brought up this conversation topic to Lorenz in the first place. "The crown prince has requested you specifically... by name."_

_Lorenz choked on his mouthful of tea._

And so here Lorenz was, in a shaky Wyvern Caravan, about to nearly vomit. The unlucky soul who was to marry a man he had never met; but _clearly_ knew him, all for the sake of a peaceful union between the Leicester Alliance and Almyra.

Such a union was utterly ridiculous! There was no benefit to Almyra outside of holding an Alliance Noble hostage. Did the crown prince have such preferences? Was it an acceptable practice in Almyra to take on male consorts? Lorenz didn't know, but the thought made his skin itch unpleasantly.

Prior to leaving, he wrote letters to his various compatriots across Fodlan, informing them of his departure. His oldest friend, Ferdinand Von Aegir of the Adrestian Empire, was properly devastated by the news.

_My Dear Lorenz_  
_Marriage! And to the future king of Almyra?! I was shocked to hear of it. I confess that I'm not all too familiar with Almyran customs ,but if they are amiable to their prince taking on a consort of the same gender… well, I may have to pay you a visit once the skirmishes end and Fodlan's Throat opens. If only to attend your wedding as your best man like we once discussed._  
_I know that you are not exactly thrilled with this arrangement, as it effectively puts an end to your own plans, but I also know that you are a terribly selfless man who will bear it with your head held high for the sake of all of us here in Fodlan. A characteristic that I have always admired about you; your ability to set aside personal desires for the benefit of others. Alas, we may not be able to talk freely once you are sent off to Almyra, but know that I pray to the goddess every day for your happiness and safety. And that I will miss you dearly, my cherished Lorenz._  
_As for your inquiry about what I've been up to, I'm sorry to say but I cannot tell you much. Lady Edelgard has expressed plans to revolutionize the Adrestian Empire once she is crowned empress, but has been quite secretive about what her plans entail. My Hubert has been slightly more forthcoming, stating that Edelgard envisions a world where we won't have to marry for the sake of producing heirs, where crests won't matter, and nobility is earned through merit. I know you don't think much of Hubert, but he is very devoted, both to me and to her ambitions, and he would not make such a bold claim if it were not possible. The idea of someone with my proclivities being able to openly express my love for him, maybe even court him, makes me quite giddy. You have often said it is foolish to place blind faith in others, but if that is the world that Edelgard desires to create, then I intend to help her accomplish it. Whatever it takes._  
_I absolutely refuse to write ‘goodbye’ because that would mean that we will never meet again in this lifetime, and the very thought breaks my heart. So instead I will say: may we meet again at the dawn of a new world._  
_Your best friend,  
_ _Ferdinand Von Aegir_

_P.S.  
I almost failed to mention! The package that arrived with this letter is a gift from Hubert and myself. I intended to give it to you for your upcoming 21st birthday, but I suppose it will have to do as a wedding gift. I hope it serves to remind you of home when you use it, and of our talks over tea during the academy days._

The package in question contained a tea set. It wasn't just any set, though--it was a very rare bone china set that was crafted in the year 1174 by expert Adrestian craftsman Harold Von Boon. Only five sets were ever made before his passing two years later, and though many imitations flooded the market, this set had his unique signature that simply could not be replicated. 

The set was made taking ground up animal bone meal and mixing it into the ceramic, allowing it to be delicate yet sturdy. Every blooming rose on its outer surface was hand-painted with the love and care that Von Boon placed in everything he made and with his signature delicate touch of gold trim along each petal.

Lorenz had recalled mentioning its rarity to Ferdinand in one of their prior conversations over tea a good five years ago. That he was even able to acquire one, much less _give_ it to Lorenz as a parting gift. Lorenz cried over the gift and the letter for a solid hour, hugging the package to his chest in a moment of nostalgic weakness. Ferdinand was such a considerate, pure friend that Lorenz truly did not deserve. The tea set was currently packed with the rest of his belongings in his suitcase, and was going to be the _only_ tea set he took with him to Almyra. He would think fondly of his best friend as he used it.

His other friend, Sylvain of the Kingdom of Faerghus, was not so considerate. In fact, his letter was filled with almost nothing but his endless amusement of Lorenz's plight.

_To Lorenz  
I must say, if this was an attempt on my life, well done. Because the second I read your letter, I nearly choked on my tea, I was laughing so hard. Married! You are getting married! To a prince! It’s like something out of one of your sappy romance novels that you deny reading, but I know very well that you do. The irony is not lost on me either that the skirt-chaser of the Alliance is now being married off... to a man. You have to invite me to the wedding, if only so we can partake in heavy drinking and you can introduce me to some hot Almyran warrior women._

_First off, how dare he!?_ Lorenz thought, nearly crumpling the letter to use as kindling for his fire. Lorenz was not some skirt-chaser; his flirtations were always the proper amount of amorous and were reserved only for women of high standing. Meanwhile Sylvain, the true skirt-chaser of the both of them, contented himself with harassing any and every member of the female species regardless of standing and would do so with a consistent lack of subtlety. Still, there was more to read, so he pressed forward.

_It seems like only yesterday we were just a couple of ladies’ men. Well, I was; you only served to ruin my charms with the fairer sex like a dark raincloud blocking out my radiant sun. But now… gosh, things are going to be different, aren't they? You are going to be a consort of Almyra, that's a lot of heavy responsibility. You will have a huge impact on that nation and its relations to us here in Fodlan. Aren't you scared? Knowing you, you'd probably just sniff dismissively and say that 'if it's to benefit the Alliance, I will do what I must as a noble of House Gloucester.' It used to annoy me when you said things like that. But I'm starting to understand, now that I am forced to take on responsibilities of my own, just how strong and courageous you are. As much as it pains me to admit it, I think of you every time I feel like running away. I don’t know, something about your haughty way of calling me flippant and irresponsible, it keeps me going. Out of spite, maybe, to prove you wrong. I'm going to miss that. I'm going to miss you. Dearly._  
_Ok, enough of me being sappy, take care,  
_ _Please burn this letter after reading it so we never speak of this again._

_Your friend,  
Sylvain_

The line at the end, about how he'll miss Lorenz--it brought to mind their academy days when they would go into town and see who could charm the most women. Those days usually ended with neither of them winning over any and having to salvage their wounded pride over tea. There they would sit making good natured quips at where the other went wrong and having a laugh at themselves. They were odd sorts of bonding moments, but ones Lorenz cherished dearly, almost as much as he cherished the tea set. Hence why, instead of burning it, he tucked Sylvain's letter in the pages of his poetry journal, right alongside Ferdinand's, just in case he needed to remind himself why he was going along with this.

For this marriage wasn't just to benefit the Alliance (though they would stand to gain the most in this deal) but to protect all of Fodlan from the threat of Almyra. The people of Almyra were renowned for being a warrior race, who settled disputes with fights to the death like wild animals and even held such battles during funerals. They were a people who spilled blood like it was wine and saw war merely as an opportunity for glory.

That any member of such a race sought peace was utterly ridiculous. And that was something his father brilliantly realized too.

_"I know this is not an ideal situation for you, son," the Count said calmly as Lorenz coughed to regain his ability to breathe. "But this also presents us with a unique opportunity."_

_"How is marrying off your oldest son, to Almyra, an opportunity?" Lorenz coughed, wiping the tears at the corner of his eyes. "I'm the only one with a crest in our family, and I'm to be married to a man. Is the Gloucester line being doomed to end with me what you consider an opportunity!?"_

_"Lorenz, calm yourself," Count Gloucester said, a hint of steel in his tone. "You are behaving in a manner unbefitting of that title."_

_Lorenz shrunk under his glare. "Apologies."_

_"Quite alright." He hummed, sipping his tea. "You needn't concern yourself; I have no intention of asking you to stay married to that heathen. But as consort to the crowned prince you will be staying at their palace in the capital." He paused. "Or whatever their people call it." He snorted, amused at his own joke._

_"There you will most likely be met with suspicion; their people are slow to trust outsiders. But in time they will grow to trust you, accept you as their own, and once they do, they may even divulge secrets to you, weaknesses and strengths that we can use against them one day. And then, once you have learned all there is to learn, you will take the life of their prince and leave them without leadership."_

_"You're asking me to--" He trailed off, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth at the full implication of what his father was asking him to do. "You want me to assassinate the future leader of Almyra?" he reiterated carefully under his breath, as if the people of Almyra were listening in right now. "Father, I could be killed if I am caught."_

_"Indeed, which is why great care must be taken. We will create a code to allow for proper correspondence. At your signal, we will send forth a mercenary to meet you and you will administer the slow-acting poison that you will be taking with you. After administering it, you will leave on horseback by nighttime and come back here. So long as you travel quickly, you will make it to Fodlan's Locket safely before word arrives of the prince’s death."_

_"Father, such actions will reincite a war."_

_"A war with a king blinded by rage is a war easily won. Yes, they are strong, but Fodlan has mages of great power. Almyra will be crushed easily."_

_Lorenz wasn't so sure, if Almyra was really a nation that could be beaten so easily they would have done so before now. Would inciting a war really be the best way? His hesitance must have been obvious as Count Gloucester put down his cup to give his son his full attention._

_"You have concerns?"_

_"Plenty, Father. I am uncertain."_

_"Speak freely then, what has you concerned?"_

_"We've fought so hard for this fragile state of peace, why must it be destroyed in this way and by our hand?"_

_His father sighed, as he always tended to do when his son failed to see the bigger picture. He then interlocked his fingers, resting his chin upon the net he created._

_"Because we have reason to believe that if we don't act first... The Almyrans will."_

_Lorenz's brow wrinkled in confusion but remained silent, allowing Count Gloucester to continue._

_"The Crown Prince of Almyra. We have looked into him and do you know what they call him in his homeland?" He paused, perhaps for dramatic effect before muttering low under his breath. "They call him the Master Tactician."_

_Lorenz had to repress a snort. "Little overblown, don't you think?"_

_"I thought so too at first, but he is not like others of his kind, he is clever and deceitful. It was no coincidence that he chose you to be his consort, as the deteriorating health of Von Riegan and the tragic death of his only son means that House Gloucester is positioned to be the next leader of the alliance. And as my son, he knows that I would give anything to protect you."_

_The admission shocked Lorenz at first; after all, his dad wasn't the type to show him any affection. But this statement wasn't rooted in parental love, it was pure pragmatism. Lorenz was the sole heir of his legacy, after all, and the only thing his dad cared more about than his self interests was his legacy._

_"The Leicester Alliance is the last barrier between Almyra and the rest of Fodlan. It must not fall," his dad finished with confidence. "Almyra must be brought down first."_

_And that was the final statement needed to convince him that this was right. Poisoning was distasteful, even cowardly, but if it prevented a preemptive strike from Almyra and removed a supposed powerful player from the game, then it must be done. War could never be allowed to reach Fodlan or his friends..._

_"...If that is my duty as a noble of Gloucester, then it will be done, Father."_

_Even if it meant having to kill._

\---------------

After a few hours, the Wyverns started their slow descent, and Lorenz slipped a scrap of leather in between the pages of the book he was reading. 

_**My Fair Lordling**_ was a compelling read, if a bit ludicrous in places. The author was clearly more interested in indulgent wish fulfillment over realistic storytelling. Why in goddess’s name were women so drawn in by the idea of changing barbaric men into gentlemen, when there were whole hosts of noblemen, already trained in the proper art of refinement? 

But its true purpose was not entertainment; this book was going to be the cipher he and his father would be using to communicate from here on out. There was no denying that his father chose this book as a sort of symbolic jest. Lorenz was sure he too would be amused by it once this whole ordeal was behind him.

Lorenz pulled back the dark curtains on his side of the caravan to take in the view of the Almyran desert to the west. Sandy dunes stretched as far as the eye could see with the massive mountains of Fodlan’s Throat nothing more than a line on the horizon.

Lorenz swallowed nervously, letting the curtain fall from his fingers. That would be quite the ride back.

The door on the opposite side of the caravan swung open and Lorenz stood up as an Almyran attendant beckoned him outside.

“Come,” he stuttered in broken Fodlan, and Lorenz followed suit, stepping out of the caravan into the blistering desert heat.

The capital of Almyra was built around an oasis. Tall archways of red clay acted as an entrance gate to the central part of the city. Those archways leveled out into a rampart that wrapped around the outskirts, separating the city from the harsh desert sands. There were two guard towers (that Lorenz could see, but there were likely more on other parts of the wall) along with a patrol of bow-wielding guards atop the ramparts.

At Lorenz’s arrival one of the guards stopped, smacking his fellow guard’s arm and pointing their way. Lorenz scowled with a small ‘hmph’ and tossed his hair over his shoulder. _Honestly! Hasn't anyone told these barbarians that it’s rude to point at future royalty?_

Even if it was to be temporary; they didn’t know that.

He was about to turn and retrieve the rest of his luggage, but a sudden gust of wind and a spray of sand signaled that the Wyverns had started their ascent once more. Lorenz watched in confusion as they carried the caravan, along with his remaining belongings, over the wall. 

_Seems like the prince is going to be checking my things first,_ Lorenz thought, tucking his book close to his chest, subtly feeling for the small vial hidden in the false pocket of his vest. _As Father predicted._

“Come, come,” the attendant urged in his broken Fodlan, ushering Lorenz along towards the main gate. Two armored guards with axes perked up as they approached, the attendant coming forward and talking to them in another language, probably Almyran.

The guards glanced up at Lorenz with suspicion, and under their scrutiny, Lorenz stood taller, his chin jutted out and his hand left hovering by his face. A habit he tended to whenever he was nervous.

The guards nodded and opened the gate for them.

“Why didn’t we just land closer?” Lorenz asked his attendant, once the doors to the gate closed behind them. The man blinked at him in confusion.

“Sorry, no understand.”

Lorenz had to repress the urge to roll his eyes. “Of course you don’t.” 

“Come,” he urged again.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming.” Lorenz let out a sigh, taking in his surroundings.

The center of the city was chock full of vendors offering all sorts of unusual wares. Animal pelts of various lizards and wild game that Lorenz had never seen before, a stand selling green nuts roasted in salt, and some sort of drink that was poured from a cacti; another vendor was selling these wood carvings that had a most unique and clean smell about them. Lorenz paused to take a whiff and realized that it smelled faintly of the Almyran pine needle tea his father just recently started importing.

_Ah, perhaps it won't be too terrible. I'll at least get some halfway decent tea._

All this bustling activity was surrounding a pool of crystalline water where tanned women dressed head to toe in brightly colored fabric held aloft clay pots of water to bring back to their homes. The buildings themselves were crafted of that same red clay as the walls, with open arches for doors and open circles for windows. In place of a door, a colored tapestry was hung on the outside of the door of every home, providing the bare minimum of privacy.

He could feel their eyes on him, even from behind his curtain of hair. His height had him almost a whole head taller than everyone else, and his clothing with its deep purple velvet vest and gold trim stood out among the lighter, more colorful outfits these people wore. That plus his more obvious pale complexion and odd-colored hair--he must have stuck out like a sore thumb. It was starting to make him feel a little self conscious, like he was an exotic animal in a cage.

His attendant hurried him through the streets towards what was the most massive structure in the whole city. The palace wasn’t so much built as it was carved from the rocky face of the mountain behind it. Its various towers were a surprising marvel to behold and the structure had been carved for efficiency as a stronghold over style.

_Father will want to hear of this,_ Lorenz thought, taking in the arrow loops and the parapets. _This castle appears almost Fodlan in design._

The attendant led them down a grassy stretch of land along a man made squared pond. Lorenz peeked at the surface of the water to see lily pads, frogs and various small fish darting about. Also skimming the surface were water skeeter bugs and dragonflies in bright blue hues.

The pond came to an end right at the steps of the palace, where Lorenz could see a man waiting for their arrival.

He stood slightly shorter than him with a full thick beard that covered his face from just under his nose to his chin. He was dressed in fabrics of muted yellow vibrancy, as if the colors were once bright and stunning, but had been slightly washed out by time and the sun. As Lorenz got closer, he noticed that the man's eyes were of a peculiar color for this region. All other Almyrans he had seen had dark brown or reddish eyes, but this man's eyes were a bright green, glinting sharply in the afternoon sunlight. He gave Lorenz an obvious once-over, appraising him, before he smiled.

"Welcome to Almyra," he said, speaking in almost perfect Fodlan. Quite surprising. "I hope you enjoyed your tour of our city." He then pressed a fist to his chest and bowed, a gesture that was very Fodlan to the point that it had Lorenz on edge. "My name is Sassan, adviser to the king. I have been tasked with taking you to your room." He then lifted his head up from where it was bowed, his smile almost mischievous before he stifled it down to something more neutral. "I hope the ride wasn't too rough."

_It was horrible; your people are responsible for raising these vermin--surely you had ones that could fly properly!_ Lorenz wanted to say, but instead held his tongue, as his father had taught him to do in polite company, and wore a smile. It was a saccharine sweet expression, pulling unnaturally across his face. "It was a lovely ride and the view was simply _marvelous._ I thank you for asking."

Sassan's expression dropped along with his stance before his eyes narrowed suspiciously. He was almost scrutinizing Lorenz closely like one would look at an insect. It gave Lorenz pause; had he said something wrong? Could he have read his thoughts? But before Lorenz could even backtrack the expression was wiped clean, his green eyes unreadable.

"Very good, sir." Sassan turned, walking into the palace, clearly expecting Lorenz to follow.

Lorenz scrambled to do just that, hurrying to catch up to him. The entryway of the palace was massive, with high arched ceilings painted in green and gold. A set of polished white stone steps curled up to the second floor where Sassan led Lorenz down a long hallway. The floors were made from shards of polished stone and glass that was arranged in these marvelous swirling patterns, and even down this hallway, more of those vaulted ceilings that were an architectural marvel. That such structures could be built outside of Fodlan...

"By the way." Sassan interrupted Lorenz's observations. "The prince has requested you join him and his father for dinner once you are all settled."

'Requested,' as if Lorenz had a choice. "Yes, well... I suppose I can't exactly deny my future husband's wishes," he said, tucking the curtain of hair behind his ear.

Sassan paused suddenly, his fists clenched. "You can."

"Excuse me?"

Sassan turned his head sideways, observing him with one cool green eye. "You are not a prisoner here. Sir," he added pointedly, before turning back and walking on. "We are not as... barbaric as your people make us out to be. Come to dinner, don't come to dinner, do what you want."

"Uh... oh," Lorenz stuttered, stunned, before matching pace to walk beside him. "I suppose I feared--" 

"You _feared?_"

Lorenz flushed, unable to voice it. It was a concern of his--if he was going to be forced to perform certain _acts_ for the crowned prince. He had once questioned Ferdinand, purely out of academic curiosity, about how those with his _preferences_ did certain things. The resulting awkward conversation was one they agreed to never speak of again and left Lorenz mildly horrified, wondering how on earth anything shoved up _there_ could ever feel good.

Thankfully, it seemed he wouldn't have to find out. This was a purely political marriage, after all, and since he couldn't bear children in this union, there was no logical need to do things of that nature. It was a small relief.

"Oh I see," Sassan said, picking up on his mortification. "You feared that you would be made to sleep with the prince." He laughed, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Make the beast with two backs, as they say."

_How utterly vulgar this adviser is!_ Lorenz nearly screeched. But Sassan continued, his voice solemn.

"Well, I can't guarantee you'll be _entirely_ safe."

Lorenz could feel the blood drain from his face as he came to a stop once more. "Wh-what do you mean?" he asked, eyes wide.

"The prince has enemies, even among his own people," Sassan said, with an almost forced smile that did not touch his eyes. "The decision to cease conflicts with Fodlan has been met with controversy by warlords who seek to gain through conquest, and slimy courtesans who see the king's softened stance as an opportunity to vie for power. It's all one big complicated mess. And now the prince has added you, a Fodlan noble, into the mix as his consort. I can only imagine what these people will do once they see a delicate Fodlan flower such as yourself, wandering the palace, all alone..."

_Alone!_ Dread settled like a lead weight as the implications of what Sassan was saying started to sink in. Would he be beaten? Sliced apart? Burned? Poisoned? Or worse... What possible enemies could exist here waiting to attack him, even now? It was a possible danger back home, certainly, but at least back home he had friends, family, allies. The Golden Deer house, Ferdinand, Sylvain, Professor Byleth. He was alone in Almyra at the mercy of a prince he knew nothing about.

"Hey, are you--?" Sassan asked. He looked concerned, his hands making an aborted towards Lorenz, to do what, Lorenz didn't know. Could this man even be trusted? "If this is troubling you, I'm sure the prince will call the engagement off. Let you go back home..." He pressed.

The words of his friends burned into his mind, written in their distinct handwriting and spoken in their distinctive voices.

_'You are a terribly selfless man who will bear it with your head held high.'_

_'But I'm starting to understand just how strong and courageous you are.'_

"Fine," Lorenz said taking a deep breath and shaking himself free of his fear. It mattered not the enemy, what face they wore, nor the methods they used. He was Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, a proud noble of the Leicester Alliance, come hell or high water he would see his duty through to the bitter end. For the sake of all of Fodlan. 

"I was merely thinking that this king and prince of yours are quite incompetent if they can't properly deal with dissidents." Lorenz sniffed, a hand resting upon his hip while the other was left to hover by his face. "Perhaps the first thing I shall do here is to teach them how it's done back home."

Sassan stared at him with wide eyes and Lorenz realized too late that in his desperate bid to regain his courage, he’d forgotten to hold his tongue. _Never speak out of turn, Lorenz,_ his father would scold with a searing glare. "Uh, what I meant to say was--"

But rather than be offended, Sassan had tossed his head back and laughed. A delighted and rich sounding laugh that echoed off the walls. "Ah, there you are, you snobbish Fodlan noble," he teased, wiping a stray tear from his eye. "I was wondering when the true colors would come forth."

"S-snobbish!? How dare--!"

"It's good that you're so feisty, though," Sassan interrupted, walking away with his hands interlocked behind his head. Lorenz could hear the smile in his voice. "The prince likes that in a consort."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to... gosh so many people  
-Cali, zeeku, and Evonee for Beta-ing  
-im baby for the food, drink and name references  
-melika for language checks... sorry I'm a pain!
> 
> -Also credit to Kylee for the king's name.  
And to every single person that I have neglected to mention over on discord. I love you all.

The room Lorenz was given was fairly spacious, but not so much as to be overwhelming. There was a bed against one wall that was almost entirely covered in fluffy multicolored pillows. On the floor, an Almyran rug woven with golden trim and soft under his leather boots. A wooden chest at the foot of the bed and a writing desk across from it, both crafted from that same fragrant Almyran wood. There was also a full length standing mirror beside the desk, hand carved and painted with white lacquer.

But the most noteworthy features of the room were the three veiled arches opposite the door leading out to an open air balcony. Lorenz walked through, running his hands along the sheer curtains that rippled in the slight breeze and right to the edge where a railing was set. From here Lorenz could see the man-made pond below, the oasis in the distance, the wall and even to the desert beyond. If he walked to the leftmost side of the balcony he could just make out the faint line where the desert faded into grassy plains on the horizon.

"Almyra is a vast land, its terrain mostly consisting of barren desert. If one travels further east, the land is more fertile, particularly along the rivers that flood during the rainy season," Sassan explained, coming up behind him. "It's perfect for raising horses and cattle. Even further east you'll find the Almyran forest, its pine needles are used as a fragrant accent for our tea and the wood is used to make almost everything, from furniture to decorations."

Lorenz's eyes drifted back towards the oasis. The sun's afternoon rays sparkled on the distant waters, the palm fronds shifting ever so slightly. If Lorenz closed his eyes, he could feel the slight breeze that moved them, the sun's warmth on his face... Could even smell a faint trace of roses.

"Is it to your liking?" Sassan's voice snapped him out of his reverie, as he rested his elbows on the railing beside Lorenz.

"It is…" 

_Breathtaking. Inspired. That there could be such beauty in so barren a desert._ There were a lot of things he could say. But to say them now would make him vulnerable, weak, sentimental. 

"Serviceable," he said instead, removing himself from the railing, to brush the adviser off. It would do him no good to be distracted, this arrangement was only temporary after all. 

"You've been acting far too familiar with me, and your mastery of the Fodlan tongue is most impressive. I can't help but wonder about you Sassan, are you one of the slimy courtesans vying for power?"

A slightly malicious smile spread across Sassan's face as he glanced at Lorenz from over his shoulder. "And if I am? Will you assist me in slipping poison into the prince's drink?"

_Already ahead of you. But best keep quiet about that for now._

"Absolutely not. Such an act would be abhorrent and I want no part of it." He jerked his head away, his nose upturned. He found it was surprisingly easy to express blatant disgust at the very suggestion, even as he could feel the vial burning a hole through his vest.

Sassan chuckled, "Good to know." He then turned around switching to rest his back on the railing. "Not that the prince would fall for such a scheme. He's too clever."

_We'll see I suppose._ "Then I look forward to meeting him at dinner tonight."

"Oh," Sassan said, his eyes widened in surprise. "So you'll come?"

Lorenz shrugged. "I might as well, if only to get to know him and perhaps find out how he knows me." He turned to Sassan. "My father had said that your prince had asked for me by name, is he familiar with Alliance politics?"

Sassan's shrugged. "Who can say? You'll have to ask him about it at dinner," he said before standing up straight and bowing once more. "Excuse me. I must be going to inform his Majesty of your acceptance to dinner."

"Wait a moment." He called just as Sassan had his hand on the door. "Before you go, should I wear something more…" Neither formal nor casual seemed like the proper word. "Cultural." He settled on and, even in his eloquent tongue, it sounded completely like the wrong thing to say. Sassan's answering scowl was proof of that.

"Wear a loincloth if it pleases you. I wouldn't want you to have to lesser yourself with Almyran fashion," he said, slamming the door behind him.

Lorenz winced. "Ah, that could have been better asked…" 

He sighed waiting a few beats before unbuttoning his vest and reaching into the false pocket to pull out the vial of poison. An unassuming thing in a small enough quantity. It was clear, relatively tasteless and odorless. Where his father had gotten a hold of such a well made poison he'll never know for certain, but he recalled seeing a letter with the Von Vestra seal amongst his father's stationery. It wasn't hard to put two and two together after that.

_Why must everyone in my life insist on making deals with that snake!?_ Lorenz thought with disgust, even though he supposed he should be grateful. He wondered how much of this vile plot Hubert might have put together with his father asking for a poison mere days after Ferdinand received word of Lorenz's upcoming nuptials. But that was a worry for another day, a far distant day he hoped.

Right now, it was vital that he find a good hiding spot lest the prince send servants to sweep his quarters. Kneeling before the wooden chest, he popped open the latches to discover all of the clothing he packed with him, folded neatly inside.

_Well this would be the first place I would look._ He sighed closing the chest and making his way over to the desk.

Simplistic, with no drawers to hide anything of value, it was just a thick block of wood on four legs and a cushioned chair. On the surface was his package from Ferdinand and the poetry book with the letters tucked inside. The prince was kind enough to provide him with an inkwell and quill made from a hawk feather.

Lorenz placed _**My Fair Lordling**_ on the desk and slid the inkwell aside to expose the wood underneath. He then rubbed his thumb and index finger together to build up a small but searing heat.

Pressing his thumb to the wood, he monitored the heat with care so that the wood below burned without catching. While most of his classmates at the Royal School of Magic had contented themselves with grand shows of power, Lorenz had taken to learning these small, more creative uses as well. When a deep enough indent had been seared into the wood Lorenz pulled his hand back to admire his handiwork. The vial was then planted, with the inkwell placed on top to cover the evidence of tampering. _Perfect!_ He almost preened at his own ingenuity.

It wasn't a perfect hiding spot, but it would have to do until a better idea came to him.

Now with that out of the way it was time to find a way to kill time before dinner. This land of new sights and dangers was equal parts terrifying and inspiring, so keeping notes in his journal seemed like a good place to start. If only to help him prepare a report for his father.

His father mentioned sending him a contact to deliver the messages to and from Fodlan. But who could he possibly send? Anyone from Fodlan would stand out and Almyrans usually needed a seal of approval to cross past Fodlan’s Locket. Well, no point in dwelling on it now, he would simply have to trust in his father and have his report ready by week’s end. The less he knew, the better. Or so his father had told him...

He sat at the desk and plucked the quill from the inkwell. He pondered his words while brushing the soft hawk feather under his chin in thought. With a sad sigh he pulled the letters from his book, reading them once more and tracing the words on the page with his fingers before setting them aside and bringing the nib to page.

_My heart in the west, yet I in the uttermost east..._

By the time he sat up to stretch, the sky outside his terrace was already starting to turn bright orange, with just a touch of pink. His balcony faced to the west so the sunset was in full view. He had no time to admire it however, as he had to pick out his outfit for dinner.

"Good evening sir."

Lorenz jumped, jerking his head in the direction of that voice as he pressed a hand to his racing heart.

Standing by the door, dressed head to toe in a light purple fabric, was a tanned woman. The majority of her head was covered leaving only her face exposed. Weathered crows’ feet at the corner of her eyes and similar such wrinkles around her nose suggested an age of fifty or more.

_How long was she here!? And for that matter how did she get in without me hearing?_

"I be sorry. No meant to frighten." She bowed speaking in broken Fodlan. "I'm to be attending you sir. My name is Jazmin."

"No no, I should apologize, forgive me. I did not hear you come in." Lorenz laughed to himself at his own reaction.

"As intended." Jazmin smirked as she raised her head and Lorenz wondered if all the servants in the palace were this cheeky or if the impudent ones were just assigned to him specifically to test his patience.

"Quite. I suppose you are here to help me dress?"

She turned her gaze to the bed where a set of clothing sat, folded. _How did I not notice!?_

"Ah… so I am to be dressed in Almyran clothes after all..." He tried to mask his disappointment but it was probably for the best. No need to stick out more than necessary.

"Better than loincloth, yes?" She smirked.

Lorenz flushed, mortified. "I didn't mean--!"

"We know," Jazmin interrupted, her face hard, "what you think we are. We merely do not care, because to us, you are weak."

"Weak!? How--" Lorenz stopped, closing his eyes and taking a deep inhale. No this was good, let them think what they want. "Very well. I shall endeavor to change your minds." He smiled going to stand before his mirror. "Now then bring it here."

Jazmin tilted her head inquisitively. "Need you to be dressed, like child?"

Lorenz whirled on her, biting words ready on his tongue but what could he say that didn't make him sound like a fool. _Back home my valets showed me proper respect!_ Well he wasn't exactly home was he?

With a huff he walked over to the bed carefully unfolding the outfit. It was just a simple long woolen coat with a white undershirt and trousers. On the floor was a pair of thin shoes, made from some sort of animal hide, that looked almost like slippers. How very plain. But it wasn't anything as complex as the various layers he used to dress in.

"Thank you then. That will be all." He forced out through gritted teeth.

"Very good," she cooed and it sounded demeaning, even if that wasn't the intent. "I return with salve." She bowed.

"Salve?" He asked perplexed. "Whatever for?"

She straightened, her brow crumpled in confusion. "How do you say…" She trailed off, brushing a finger against her nose.

Now that she called attention to it, Lorenz's nose did feel a little warm. He brushed his fingers against it, noting that the tip and the bridge felt unusually heated compared to the rest of his face.

_Impossible!_ He gasped walking quickly to the mirror and sure enough his nose was flushed pink with the tell tale signs of a burgeoning sunburn. If that wasn't bad enough it had spread to his cheeks, just under his eyes, making his face look permanently flushed. "I was only in the sun for an hour at most!"

Granted his complexion was pale, but to have so quickly burnt his nose. Oh this land was turning out to be unbearable and it was only the first day!

And Jazmin, cheeky old woman that she was, was _laughing_ at him. "It no take long."

Lorenz groaned, pressing his hands over his nose. "I can't go to dinner like this! I'll be a laughing stock!" In the mirror's reflection he could see the woman approach him from behind. Slow, careful and very silent.

"Let me see," she said gently pressing a cool hand to Lorenz's cheek.

Lorenz turned his head at her gentle beckoning, slowly lowering his hands from his face.

Perhaps it was only a desperate attempt to grasp some form of familiarity, but the gentle brushing of weathered calloused fingers on his skin reminded him fondly of his mother. A woman who never looked to be the affectionate motherly type, his father often likening her to a vulture, but after taking the deserved brunt of his father's disapproving glare, his mother's hands were always a welcome balm on his hot tear streaked face.

_"My darling rose, don't let him pluck your thorns."_

"You are fine," his attendant concluded and Lorenz opened his eyes, having not realized he had closed them. "I return with salve."

"I--" His voice cracked, momentarily overwhelmed with emotion. He cleared his throat and jutted out his chin. "Thank you."

She smiled fondly, reaching up to pat his head. Again, she was treating him as a child but it didn't feel as condescending as before. It felt simply, motherly.

She then departed from the room, leaving Lorenz alone to dress himself and maybe even collect himself before homesickness could grip him completely.

\-------------

When she returned, Lorenz was fully dressed. The high collar of the woollen coat buttoned a little snug against his neck, but the shirt and coat itself were a little loose on him. The sleeves hung loose past his long fingers. This was an outfit that was clearly made for someone more muscular. 

As the sun sank further below the horizon he could see the value in wearing such a thick garment. Nights in Almyra were _freezing,_ and, with no doors to seal him from the outside, his room was starting to take on that evening chill.

However, the color of the clothing was quite bland, a drab grassy beige, especially compared to the day-wear that Sassan had donned before. He pinned his precious rose pin onto the garment, determined to at least add some color to this ensemble. Surely a royal consort would be given some sort of decoration to indicate their place in society… or were people supposed to just _know_ that the only light skinned male in the entire country was the prince's soon-to-be husband. Though Lorenz wondered how long he would be able to keep his complexion in this land of sun.

His attendant smeared a clear goo upon his face, starting at the nose and spreading it to the flushed skin under his eyes. It cooled the heat of his face instantly, but it smelled horrendous and had a tacky sort of feel as it dried on his skin.

"What is this?" he questioned dipping a finger into the bowl and rubbing the slick substance between his bare fingers.

"Salve, from plant." Jazmin explained, unhelpfully as ever.

Lorenz sighed through his nose. Really, it was his fault for expecting anything informative.

"Alright," he said, standing up to his full height, holding his arms out. "How do I look?" He asked, subjecting himself to her judgement. The older woman looked him over with a scrutinizing gaze before smiling, reaching over to tuck the hanging curtain of amethyst hair behind Lorenz's right ear.

"The prince is a man of good taste," she said trailing gentle fingers down his jaw to his chin tilting his face upward. 

Lorenz felt his face heat up in a way that had nothing to do with his sunburn. "R-right... well naturally!" He forced out a proud laugh, resting a hand on his hip. "Shall we go then?" He asked offering his elbow.

"As you like." She bowed but did not accept the offered elbow choosing instead to leave the room.

Lorenz lowered his elbow awkwardly and sighed, following her out.

\------------------

Honestly, Lorenz didn’t know what he expected.

What little was known about Almyra was cobbled together in books written by Alliance Generals who were fortunate enough to travel to Almyra’s border towns and return after taking in brief glimpses of the lives of the common man. But Almyra was a vast land and surely no visit to any one city or wartorn village would ever encompass all that there was to see.

Still, when one says the word ‘dinner,’ the image that immediately springs to mind was a quiet, intimate affair. Perhaps with the king, queen, their son, and a small gathering of select courtesans. Chosen with care for their ability to make polite conversation. At least that was what dinner meant in Fodlan.

This, was not that at all.

A grand hall equal in size to the one at Garreg Mach, with two long tables running parallel on either side. On top of said tables were platters laden with heaping piles of food being served family style. Drinks were provided by passing servants who poured beverages of a blood-red hue from tall necked pitchers into shallow, hand sized cups. Not just the nobility, it seemed as if the entire city was packed into this very room all seated on benches lining the tables and all speaking, laughing, cheering with reckless abandon.

Or they were, until Lorenz walked into the hall. Then it became so frightfully quiet you could hear a pin drop as every man, woman, and child stopped what they were doing to stare at him, wide eyed and curious.

“_Movafaq Bashid._” Jazmin murmured backing out the door they came in.

“Please don’t leave me,” he stage-whispered helplessly from behind a forced smile. He tried to glance around the room with his eyes, searching desperately for Sassan, but the adviser was nowhere to be seen from where he was.

At the very end of the long table on his right a man stood up from his seat. Large and foreboding with thick muscled arms, a broad chest, and a full thick beard that covers most of his face. Notable also were a few of the scars on his face, one slicing down through his left eye, which was a milky red hue compared to the other. The other traveled from jaw to cheek on the right side. In the silence, his steps were extra loud against the stone floor as he walked around the table and loomed over Lorenz.

Lorenz prided himself on his taller than average height, it made looking down at people so delightfully easy, but standing before this man made him feel as tiny as Annette, and Lorenz had to take a half step back just maintain eye contact.

_Easy Lorenz, do not be intimidated._ He swallowed, digging his nails into his palms from within his sleeves. The prickling heat of a fire spell swirled at his fingertips, ready to be unleashed should Lorenz have to defend himself.

The man clapped his heavy hands on Lorenz’s shoulders, causing Lorenz to tense up, before his face quickly split into a wide grin.

“So good of you to join us Lorenz Hellman Gloucester!” he boomed in heavily accented Fodlan, echoing throughout the entire hall. “Wonderful to meet you at last! I am King Arash!”

“Ah-- um.” Whatever words Lorenz could have said in that moment were lost to him forever. He uncurled his hand from under his sleeve, subtly shaking his hand to cool down the building heat. _I almost shot a fireball spell at the King of Almyra!_

“Come come, sit at the head of the table!” King Arash beamed placing a hand on Lorenz’s back and all but shoving him towards the back of the room.

The King’s declaration served to break the spell of silence and activity slowly resumed in the grand hall, as the diners turned back to their neighbors to continue prior conversations. Lorenz strained his ears to hear what they were saying as he passed but it all sounded muddled together and in a language he couldn’t understand.

_Oh, this is going to be a **nightmare!**_

He was seated to the right of Arash with an empty seat between them, the other corner seat on his right occupied by another large man, his thick dark hair brushed away from his face and tied into a small ponytail. He also had scars on his face, one that travelled from his cheek over the bridge of his nose and the other that sliced upward from his temple to his widow's peak hairline.

"Geez you are a scrawny one!" The man laughed grabbing a bowl of this bright yellow rice and heaping it onto Lorenz's plate. "Here you gotta eat, kid."

"T-thank you" Lorenz murmured too overwhelmed by, well, everything at this point to say anything else.

"The name's, oh one second, _bargardid ba sharab!_" He shouted over Lorenz's head beckoning a servant to come over. The man hurried over pouring the red liquid into Lorenz's cup. _Ah, so that's why the pitcher neck is so long,_ Lorenz noted, watching as the servant lifted his pitcher and scurried to the next demanding drinker. _It prevents the servants from having to lean too far over._

"Sorry, if you don't call them now, you'll find that you'll have to wait forever for a refill. Now what was I saying… Ah yes! My name is Nader the Undefeated." He grinned puffing out his chest. "Perhaps you've heard of me in your Fodlan."

Lorenz had. Nader was infamous for being a troublesome general of the Almyran forces, undefeated in a hundred battles. Rumor had it that he had fled from at least half of them, but Lorenz wasn't going to bring that little detail up here.

"I am Lorenz, but you probably knew that," Lorenz held out a hand to shake but it was ignored in favor of piling his plate with these small cherry sized balls of meat.

Nader started spooning white creamy looking porridge with green flecks into a bowl. When Lorenz took a small whiff of it, it had a slightly sour smell like spoiled milk but with a note of mint mixed in. 

"What _is_ this?" he asked in mild disgust jerking his head back.

"_Mast Khiar!_" Nader grinned before noting his face, his smile fading. "What you don't have _mast_ in your land?"

"It would help if I knew what _mast_ was!" he snapped closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "It smells of spoiled milk. Do you people really just--" he gestured helplessly, "eat this?!"

"If you don't want it, don't eat it _Beigzadeh-khanoom._" Nader scowled looking offended, but from his other side Arash was laughing.

"Don't be so sore Nader. My wife made the exact same face when she saw Mast for the first time." He laughed, his expression fond. "She used to be from your land you know, Lorenz. Your Fodlan."

Lorenz eyes widened at that as he jerked his head towards the king. The queen of Almyra, from Fodlan? This was the first he heard of it, why hadn't father mentioned that? Goodness what a relief, someone civilized to talk to!

"She was? Where is she then? I would very much like to meet her," Lorenz said, glancing around the room. _Ask her how she acclimated to this barbaric nation._

Arash's smile fell, his gaze falling to the cup in his hand. "She is no longer with us."

"Oh," Lorenz said softly, "I'm... so sorry for your loss." He felt a stab of guilt at the thought of the poison hidden in his room. _Am I to rob this man of a son too?_

"It could not be helped. Illness took her in her sleep," he said sadly even as his whole face was tense with barely concealed rage. He tossed back his cup of wine, drinking it in one gulp before continuing. "I seek to fulfill her dying wish and open our borders to Fodlan. I have been met with much opposition on the matter."

"So your adviser Sassan has explained," Lorenz said poking at his rice with a fork. "If there is anything I can do to help, you need only ask, your Majesty."

Arash gave Lorenz a confused look. "I don't have an adviser named Sassan."

Lorenz blinked, his head jerking up toward the larger man. "Wha-- T-then who was that man?! The one who greeted me at the entrance!"

Behind him, he could hear Nader snickering under his breath. Before Lorenz could twist his head around to ask what he found so funny, a different pair of arms encircled his shoulders from behind in a loose hug and he felt the firm corner of a chin rest on his left shoulder.

"We meet at long last, my love," a voice laughed in his ear. A very familiar voice.

Angrily, Lorenz shook the arms from his shoulder and stood up from his seat to face the assailant. Before him stood a young Almyran man with a mostly clean shaven face save for the thin beard that travelled along the line of his jaw from one side of his face to the other. His nose was slightly upturned at the tip and his eyes were the same shade of green as the supposed adviser Sassan who may not have ever existed in the first place.

"You!" Lorenz shouted, unable to help himself as he pointed an accusatory finger at the man. "How dare you--!"

The man smiled as he feigned an innocent wide-eyed look, pointing to himself. "Me? What have I done to cause your ire, darling."

"You met with me under false pretenses! Pretending to be a--!" But Lorenz then realized where they were at this moment: in this large banquet hall, with the eyes of half the kingdom on them after Lorenz's outburst. He felt his face burst into mortified flames as he sank back down into his seat.

Nader for his part, was in hysterics. "Seems Prince Claude took you for one of his little games _shahzadeh-khanoom._"

Claude laughed, taking his seat between Lorenz and his father and grabbing a few of the tube-shaped folded pastries as the platter was passed to him. "Is that what we are calling him? How fitting."

Lorenz grit his teeth, angered by the humiliation he now felt, their words like sticks poking at a festering wound. "You could have warned me," he muttered under his breath so only Claude could hear. "That dinners in this palace are..." he trailed off unsure how to describe it.

"More fun?" Claude offered, tearing into his pastry.

"Hardly," he scoffed. "More so... obstreperous."

Claude raised a single eyebrow but didn't comment otherwise. "Normally our dinners are more tame but Father wanted to give you a celebratory welcome. Get you into the people's good graces early."

Lorenz was surprised. "For me?" he asked softly.

"Yeah, but you didn't hear it from me."

Lorenz couldn't help but feel a little touched; panicked as he was, it was a nice thought. He sighed, taking a silent sip of his drink… or it would have been if he didn't nearly choke on how _strong_ it was.

"What _is_ this!?" Lorenz gasped looking down at the offending ruby liquid. It tasted like incredibly concentrated red wine where any and all water content was replaced with even more liquor.

"That is Mey." Claude laughed tossing his own cup back effortlessly, as if drinking water. "Puts some chest on your chest."

"I'll pass then." Lorenz sighed pushing his cup back. The last thing he needed was to get drunk here. Make a bigger fool of himself. "...You also neglected to mention about your mother… I'm sorry."

Claude's smile fell away, his eyes sad. "It's… well it's not fine, but it happened. Nothing we can do to change it." Claude sighed tilting his head up, his face hard. "Right now, I have to focus on the future."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Lorenz wasn't sure why he was even offering. He was neither well versed in Almyran politics nor was he even planning to actually stay here. But Prince Claude picked him, him specifically, for a reason. If there were detractors in this kingdom, surely there was a plan in motion to weed them out, but what role Lorenz was supposed to play in that, he didn't know.

Claude blinked, surprised but quickly recovered with that plastered on smile. "It's nothing for you to worry about. Just keep being your usual delicate self." Claude chuckled reaching over to brush Lorenz's cheek.

Memories of running his spear through a bandit's chest came to mind, as did the flare of his fingers sending a fireball spell at an approaching mounted enemy. True, he may not have been a muscled warmonger like these people were, but he has killed before. "I would hardly say that I'm delicate," Lorenz huffed smacking Claude's hand away.

"You sure about that?" he said with this cocky little half smile. "Looks like you got some color on your nose there." 

Lorenz blushed covering his face.

"Your Majesty."

Lorenz twisted around in his chair to face the source of the voice and was met with another large muscular male, grey streaks in his dark hair and full beard. Flanking his left side was a young male, about twenty or so, his long dark hair tied back and a notable scar on his upper lip. Both had searing red eyes and while the older man's attention was on Arash, the younger man's eyes were on Lorenz, looking him up and down, appraising.

"My son and I wished to introduce ourselves to the royal consort." The muscular man grunted giving a polite bow.

"You need not ask permission, brother." Arash chuckled.

"Stand and bow like a Fodlan noble." Claude murmured in his ear too low for anyone to hear. "Add some of that special Fodlan flair too."

Lorenz didn't have time to question what he meant, as the larger man turned his gaze to them. He scrambled to stand, wracking his brain to recall his etiquette lessons. Bow like in Fodlan? That would be a closed fist over his heart as he bowed. 

"Lorenz Hellman Gloucester." He added his middle name again, speaking as if he was greeting a commoner or a lesser noble and he wanted them to know exactly what their place was in the hierarchy. _Is this what you wanted Prince?_

When he looked up, there was a notable look of disgust on the larger male's face but it was gone too fast for him to be sure. "Bahadur. The King's older brother." He said gruffly his brow furrowed.

_The older brother was passed over for the younger. I wonder what the story is there._

"This is my son," he continued indicating to the younger man. "Gaspar."

Gaspar smiled giving a bow to Lorenz. "Honored to meet you, Lorenz of Fodlan." He said reaching out a hand as if offering a handshake. Lorenz responded in kind but was surprised to find that Gaspar had changed his grip on Lorenz's hand and was lifting Lorenz's hand to his lips for a kiss.

"What on earth are you doing!?" Lorenz snapped, quickly wrenching his hand out of Gaspar's grasp.

Gaspar frowned in confusion. "I had heard that this is how you greet in your country. Is that not so?"

"If I was a woman, which I am _clearly_ not!" Lorenz flushed trying to calm himself. It was just one thing after another, he wasn't sure how much more his heart could take. But at least _this_ man seemed genuinely sorry for his rude behavior, giving an apologetic bow.

"So sorry! I only wished to try and make you comfortable in our country." Gaspar flushed as well.

"It's... quite alright." Lorenz sighed running a hand through his hair. "Next time just ask if you are not sure." He said gently with a polite smile.

"I most certainly will, Lorenz. And know that if you have anything you need from me. I'll be at your service." He nodded frantically as his father turned away. Gaspar followed but not before directing a cruel sneer over his shoulder at Claude. 

Claude pointedly ignored the look, taking another bite of his food.

Lorenz sat back down leaning closer so he could speak to Claude under his breath. "What was that about?" he hissed. "What did you just make me do?"

Claude glanced over at Lorenz, his face somber, his eyes cool. He appeared to be thinking of something, but what he was thinking, Lorenz couldn't guess. It felt like he was being examined closely. Then Claude smiled, light and charming. 

"As I said, nothing you need to worry about." He chuckled turning back to his meal. "You're already doing great though. Just keep doing what you're doing."

_It would help if I knew exactly **what** I was doing. _

The night flew by, and Lorenz was introduced to various other Almyran nobles. Some who spoke a little Fodlan, others who didn't speak any at all and needed Claude to translate. He considered himself good at remembering names, but these foreign names were a little too odd on his tongue to remember. In addition to the nobles he was also introduced to members of the merchant's guild and their families, all of whom were expressing nothing but excitement at the open trade agreements between Fodlan and Almyra.

The food, though strange and unfamiliar, was actually quite tasty. The small meatballs were crisp on the outside and had been basted in a tomato based sauce, the yellow rice fragrant with a strange floral yet musky flavor that paired quite nicely.

By the end of the night, most everyone had cleared out of the banquet hall and Lorenz was absolutely stuffed and exhausted, wishing to retire for the night.

"Hold on, I'll escort you." Claude smiled, getting up from his seat, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"A moment Claude. I would like a word." Arash spoke his voice firm.

Claude made a face, exhaling heavily through his nose. "Of course you do, Nader?" He asked turning to the larger male.

Nader made a face of his own before sighing. "Yeah, alright." He huffed getting up.

"I highly doubt I need an escort," Lorenz protested.

"Do you know how to get back on your own then?" Claude asked with a raised eyebrow. Lorenz scowled, but said nothing.

"Right then let's go _beigzadeh-khanoom._"

"Someone is going to have to tell me what that means at some point!" Lorenz huffed angrily, storming after Nader, and Claude's laughter following him out as the doors were shut behind them.

Claude then turned to his father as they sat back down in the now empty hall. Servants clearing the tables of dirty dishes "He's _charming_ isn't he? Uncle Bahadur is probably foaming at the mouth right now."

"Claude." Arash said, his tone devoid of all humor. "How long do you intend to waste everyone's time with this--" he motioned to the door, "--farce?"

Claude's dropped the smile, his eyes glancing to the door, pondering. 

"I made you a promise that I intend to keep," he answered after a long moment of silent thought. "Our Fodlan noble is an important piece to that end."

Arash leaned back with a sigh, taking a long final swig of his drink. "And you picked that Fodlan noble because?" He jutted his chin to the door.

Claude tensed ever so slightly before forcing himself to relax, giving his father an assured smile. It would have gone undetected to anyone who didn't know him. But Arash was sharp when it came to all things Claude. He had to be, given his son's tendency to mask the truth behind smiles and half lies.

"You don't have to tell _me_ if you don't want to, son. Keep your secrets." Arash sighed standing up. "But you might want to consider informing your honey trap of his place so that he can be of better use to you. He seems like a good kid, considering his background."

Claude smiled his chin tilted up. "I'll keep your advice in a corner of my heart. Baba."

Arash smirked. "Cheeky boy, always with the last word." He muttered before closing the door behind him.

Claude waited for his father to leave before letting himself collapse under his own weight.

His chin rested on his interlocked fingers as ideas, plans and plots unfolded before his eyes, every which way leading to a dead end in his head. No, he needed to rework the strategy. But he still didn't know for certain if Lorenz could be trusted enough to be that partner.

_"My deer, do you ever trust anyone?"_ The ghost of his mother's voice laughed in his ear.

_No Maman,_ Claude thought bitterly. _That's why I'm alive and you're dead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omake  
Ferdinand: (sighing sadly over tea) I'm worried Hubert. I hope at the very least this Almyran Prince makes Lorenz happy.  
Hubert: (silently sipping his coffee, knowing full well that Lorenz has a poison he made and that Lorenz fully intends to use it on his fiance at the behest of his father) Mm-hm...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks as always to Cali for the beta, ~mwah<3
> 
> Evonee for her stunning reference pics over on discord.
> 
> Edit: Godfrey is Kylee's creation over on discord and I completely forgot to mention that! Thanks Kylee! Sorry I killed him!
> 
> And of course to all of you my dear commenters and kudos... ers! I don't always reply because I'm afraid to vomit spoilers all over the place but I have read and reread every note and name. I cherish all of you! Thank YOU!!! <3 <3 <3

Lorenz's sleep was plagued by restlessness and constant tossing and turning. As it turns out, a nest of pillows made for lumpy, uncomfortable sleeping conditions. Also he made the erroneous decision to sleep in his Fodlan sleepwear; a thin silk night shift, which did nothing to mitigate the Almyran evening chill.

This lack of serious sleep had put him a sour mood, even before a firm knock on his door woke him up. He ignored it, burying his face deeper into one of the pillows. But then the visitor decided to just let themselves in anyway, with a voice that was loud and far too cheery.

"Good morning sunshine." The prince laughed. He was dressed in the same colorful display as Lorenz saw him when he was dressed as Sassan. Baggy, loose fitting pants tucked into black riding boots. A beige and yellow robe, opened slightly at the collar with a yellow and green sash crossed over his left shoulder and cinched at the right hip before wrapping around his waist. His green eyes were bright with that hint of mischief that Lorenz suspected was a constant feature of his face. "Did you sleep well darling?"

Lorenz sat up, fixing Claude with the nastiest glare he could manage. He imagined his hair was a tangled, curled mess without his valet to pin it back for him. The long curtain of fine strands pressed into odd angles from how he slept with shorter strands in the back curling outward. He could feel his eyes strained from exhaustion, accompanied by unsightly bags to rival those of sweet Marianne back home.

Claude laughed despite the stink eye being thrown his way. "I'll take that as a no." He hummed walking over to sit at the foot of the bed, facing Lorenz with a charming smile. "C'mon sleeping beauty, we got things to talk about."

Lorenz’s scowl did not drop from his brow even as he swiped a rather large pillow and smacked Claude in the face with it. Had he a full night's rest, Lorenz might have been appalled by his childish behavior and towards a crown prince, someone so above his current station. But as it stood, he was exhausted, his face seared with sunburn from the previous day, he was angry and he wanted Claude to _leave_.

A firm poof indicated that the pillow made contact as intended. The wind from the blow knocking unruly curls into Claude’s stunned face. Lorenz gave a little victory sneer before realization washed over him like a bucket of cold water at what he had just done.

“Ah! M-my apologies Prince Claude! I don’t know why I--” Lorenz flushed in embarrassment bowing his head. “Forgive me! Such behavior was entirely uncivilized of me and it shan’t happen again!”

But Claude didn’t seem offended, if anything he was smiling. But it was a smile Lorenz did not like one bit. "What are you--" 

Claude had snatched a pillow of his own from under Lorenz’s arm. Lorenz suddenly realizing what was about to happen right as Claude had the pillow wound back. 

“No! No don’t you even--!” Lorenz squealed, retreating under his covers and curling into a tight coil. “Goddess help me, if you strike me with that pillow, I will kick you!”

“What? So I don’t even get to retaliate?” Claude asked with a laugh lowering the pillow to his lap. “Come on then, I won’t hit you but I do need you to get up.”

Lorenz peeked from under the covers and, once he saw that Claude was not poised to strike, sat up with a yawn. “Seems you need a lot of things from me Prince Claude. Are you going to finally explain why?”

“I might.” Claude said with a smile. The fake one, the one he wore at dinner when talking with the visiting Almyran dignitaries. Charming yet distant.

"Uh-huh," Lorenz said leveling Claude with a skeptic look. "And this couldn't have been done yesterday because?"

Claude’s smile never dropped even as he rested a chin on the heel of his hand. "I was quite busy organizing your welcome feast, _darling._"

"But you certainly had enough time to don a disguise and meet with me under false pretenses so you could, what?" Lorenz asked with a snort. "Appraise me? See if I had some... secret plot to assassinate you and steal your kingdom?" He laughed haughtily with a wave of his hand.

"Well you certainly wouldn't be the first." Claude shrugged, trying to sound casual about it but a little bit of bitterness bled through into his tone.

It didn’t look like he was going to clarify further, but the open, inquisitive look on Lorenz face forced Claude relent. He stood, unbuttoning the collar of his robe further down, pushing the fabric aside to reveal a twisted scar on his left clavicle. Small, but deep, it looked to be from either an arrow or a very small dagger. It horrified Lorenz for what it meant, a few inches further down and it would have struck his heart, a near miss. "I've had people try to kill me since I was 10, so you'll forgive me if I'm a little wary."

Lorenz glanced away, worrying at the hem of his sleep shirt. _Don't think of poison, don't think of the vial._ "I-- I understand, but I assure you that's not my intention." He mumbled. "What can I do to make you trust me?"

"You can't _make_ me do anything?" Claude said coldly, buttoning up his robe and slipping the sash back over his shoulder, smoothing down the fabric. "Trust must be _earned._"

“That’s--!” Lorenz paused in his protest. He's heard that line before, from one he considered much wiser than himself at times. "A fair point." He acquiesced with some reluctance, running a nervous hand through his hair.

It wasn't as though he expected it to be easy. But it seemed that the prince was more guarded than he originally thought. _With good reason,_ he admitted eyes skimming over Claude’s person. _I wonder what other scars he's hiding._ Maybe it was to be expected, this wasn't going to be a quick gambit like he had hoped, but perhaps a long ploy, a farce that would span months, maybe even years.

He shook his head. _Well, I did agree to this knowing that was very much a possibility._ "Very well," he sighed, "then I endeavor to earn your trust Prince Claude of Almyra," he declared, standing tall, flipping his messy hair over his shoulder. "And once I do, I hope you will also endeavor to do me that same courtesy. After all, what is marriage but a bond of mutual trust and respect between two people."

Claude gave him a funny look, somewhere between baffled and amused. But he didn't look displeased, a hint of a genuine smile curling at his lips.

"What a noble way of putting it, ser Lorenz," he teased, stretching his arms over his head and folding them behind his head. “Does that mean you’ve already committed to marrying me, even before the courting period?”

Lorenz blinked. “Courting period?”

Claude chuckled, "We can talk about that too. Get dressed and meet me out in the hall when you're ready." He then shut the door behind him leaving Lorenz alone. 

\----

It took at least an hour before Lorenz deemed himself presentable, Jazmin having been so kind as to provide him with a lovely ivory bowl, a ewer filled with cool oasis water and a bar of soap that smelled faintly of rose. She also left the horrid smelling salve from yesterday, which he applied to his nose and cheeks after drying his face.

The sunburn seemed to be fading a little at the edges, but he still looked pretty red around the nose. _I wonder if they have a hat of some kind I could wear to keep the sun off._

He ran a brush through his messy hair as he contemplated his wardrobe. As usual, he had no idea what he was in for, but Claude gave him a subtle hint in the form of his black riding boots. A ride on horseback no doubt. Best to dress simply then, a white button up shirt tucked into black riding pants. He contemplated the cravats he packed, choosing the lavender one, and slipped on a pair of his own riding boots over his pants. His rose pin completed the look with that pop of red he loved so much.

When he emerged from his room Claude was seated on the floor, knees pulled to his chest with his chin resting on his folded arms.

"Must you debase your station by sitting on the floor like a petulant child?" Lorenz sniffed haughtily.

Claude gazed up at him with a scowl. "Must _you_ take so long getting ready?" Claude sighed getting himself off the floor. "I almost fell asleep waiting for you."

"Well I haven't the slightest idea where you are taking me, so I figured I should take the time to look presentable and not like some rude prince woke me from perhaps the worst sleep of my life."

"That bad, huh?" Claude actually looked a little guilty hearing that. "Sorry, if there is anything I can do to make it better..."

"Well… since you insist." Lorenz muttered, feathering his fingers across his cheek. “Have you a, a bonnet or something to keep my face from burning?”

“A _bonnet?_” Claude asked, devolving into incredulous chuckles “Or would you prefer a parasol?” Claude giggled unable to help himself.

Lorenz shot him a nasty glare.

“Sorry, sorry, the set up was too good to pass up.” Claude chuckled his hands raised apologetically. “Not a hat exactly but we could see about getting you headpiece with a veil, a very _dignified_ veil, of course,” he amended mockingly.

“This is the last time I ask _you_ for anything!” Lorenz snapped jerking his face away, nose upturned.

“Sorry, honestly this time, its a bad habit I have to rile people up.” Claude chuckled, shaking his head. “I would hate for you to suffer the Almyran sun longer than you have to. I'll get something to protect your face, promise."

Lorenz glanced back at him from the corner of his eye and he was giving him that genuine smile again. It wasn't Lorenz's imagination, it differed greatly from the plastered on charmer smile he donned at dinner last night. For one, it reached his green eyes, crinkling them slightly at the corners. For another, his whole face was relaxed into it, like he wasn't forcing it for once. It was a handsome smile.

_It's only for the mission that I'm paying him such close scrutiny._ Lorenz reasoned, even as he jerked his head away again, his heart beating erratically.

"Come on," Claude said, the smile fading slightly like the sun behind overcast clouds. "Let me show you where my room is."

_Wait._ Lorenz blanched, _His room!?_

\------

Claude's quarters were on the same floor but an opposite wing from where Lorenz's was, which given his mistrust made a great deal of sense. But surprisingly it wasn't as grandiose as his own. The bedding was more simplistic, dressed in green with golden accents. A desk cluttered with various scrolls; letter correspondences, no doubt. He had a standing wardrobe instead of a chest for his clothes, massive in size. There was a bookshelf too with various novels, most in Almyran, but as he skimmed the book spines with his fingers, he saw there were a few in Fodlan as well.

And of course he had a small balcony of his own, this one overlooking the lands further east. Which was almost an entirely different Almyra than the one from Lorenz's balcony. Here Lorenz could see more of the grassy plains, lush with sandy green grass with steep hills along the horizon. There were shallow rivers, shimmering like mirrors, that painted the landscape in broad strokes and along these rivers, were small mud brick houses and fenced in sections where horses and cattle grazed.

"Come have a seat." Claude motioned to an ornate wooden table that had been set for two with gold lined plates, tall curvaceous glasses, a tray laden with pastries that were unknown to Lorenz and, most notably, a large ornate vessel with a matching tea pot.

"Tea? We’re having tea?"

"Well it is after noon." Claude teased with a playful wink.

"Yet you are in your riding wear." Lorenz frowned.

Claude turned his head away, hiding a secretive smile. "Well, who knows where the day will take us, better to be over prepared than under, right?" Claude said pulling out a sealed canister from a waiting cart beside the table. "Besides, I figured you might be a little hungry."

Now that he mentioned it, Lorenz was feeling a little peckish. He sat down opposite Claude watching him curiously. Upon closer inspection the ornate vessel had a golden spout attached to it and, after Claude placed the loose leaves into the mesh strainer, he placed the teapot under the spout and twisted a metal rod allowing hot water to pour from the spout and into the pot.

"What is that?" Lorenz asked, curiosity capturing him as he leaned forward in his seat to get a closer look.

"This," Claude said, looking as though he was trying to stifle a smile as he placed the lid on the pot, "is called a samovar." He left the tea to steep and reached for the top of the vessel removing the raised center lid with his gloved hand. "It has an inner chamber which holds the fire and it keeps the water inside the outer chamber warm."

Lorenz stood to peek inside where he could see the flames at the bottom of the narrow tube. When he looked under the vessel he could see the air holes that allowed the steady flow of oxygen to keep the flames burning.

"How ingenious..." Lorenz said, utterly fascinated. "So the water never grows cold."

"Oh? You mean you don't have samovars in Fodlan?" Claude tsked lightly with a shake of his head. "How barbaric." He sighed, placing a hand on his cheek with an expression of mock pity.

Lorenz frowned but was somewhat hard pressed to agree. Not that tea time wasn’t enjoyable back home, but how many times did he have to pause in the middle of an engaging conversation to reheat the water with fire magic?

As he returned to his seat, Claude placed the lid back on the fire chamber and pulled out a gold shallow bowl containing white sugar cubes, placing one on his saucer.

"I figured a heavy breakfast might be a bit much after last night. So I picked up babari from town along with some other pastries from the kitchen."

"'Babari?'"

Claude held out a tray with a flat bread cut up into chunks. "It's really good, especially when it's fresh from the oven with a little honey."

Lorenz was fascinated, taking an offered piece and nibbling on the edge. It _was_ good. Savory and warm, topped with these little white seeds that were surprisingly fragrant.

"Now the way we take tea might seem odd to you but there is a method to the madness, I swear," Claude explained pouring a small amount from the pot into his own cup, a taller glass vessel as opposed to the shallow porcelain cups to which Lorenz had become accustomed. 

He tilted the cup towards him, swirling it lightly before nodding and pouring in back into the teapot. He repeated the process with Lorenz's cup and after pouring it back he lifted the pot to distribute the tea, pouring it into Lorenz's cup first. He filled both about one third of the way with the tea and the first thing Lorenz noticed was that the brew was a very dark reddish brown. The second was the slight scent of roses that wafted from the cup. Claude then added more hot water from the samovar into each cup diluting the dark liquid to a light amber hue.

"Huh? Disappointing, you don't seem as confused as I thought you would be," Claude said, handing over his cup.

"You said there was a method to your madness and I believe you. If one fails to brew tea properly in Fodlan, it's a serious faux pas. In this way at least, our nations seem to bear similarities." Lorenz smiled as he brought the cup to his nose taking slight whiff.

“That’s… an interesting way of looking at it.” Claude smiled topping up his own cup. Lorenz watched as he placed the sugar cube in between his back teeth before taking a sip of his tea. Odd.

"Is this a rose blend?" he asked taking a sugar cube of his own, just in case.

"Hmm? Oh, no this is chai… or what you might call Four Spice blend in Fodlan. But you have a sharp nose. I did add dried rose petals to the tea leaves." Claude grinned taking a piece of babari for himself, drizzling on honey from a small golden jar.

Four Spice? Lorenz took a whiff again and detected a faint hint of spices, cardamom, clove, and cinnamon. He took a delicate sip, the contrasting spices and the aroma of rose danced pleasantly on his tongue. He would never have thought they would go so well together.

"I smelled them yesterday too and in the soap. You have roses here in Almyra?" he asked, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. Back home, the Gloucester Rose garden was considered one of the great wonders of the Alliance. His mother took great pride in caring for them personally. She grew all sorts of varieties and would always leave one for him in his room whenever he was having a bad day. He spent many days of his childhood reading in his mother's garden and learning from her how to care for them. Roses always elicited those fond memories in him.

Claude smiled a small fond smile of his own, bringing his tea to his lips once more. "So you still..." He trailed off suddenly, eyes wide as if startled from a trance.

"Beg pardon?" Lorenz asked not sure if he heard correctly.

Claude shook his head. "Nothing," he said quickly, almost too quickly. "We do, but they're not the same as the Fodlan ones… more fragrant but less elaborate looking."

Lorenz could care less what form they were in, roses were roses no matter what they looked like. "I would like to see them sometime, if such a thing is feasible?"

"Of course. That can be arranged." Claude grinned but then paused, his expression turning sober as he placed his cup down. "But first things first there are some things I need to tell you. Things you deserve to know that I have been keeping from you."

Lorenz raised a thin violet brow. "Does it involve that display from last night with your uncle?"

Claude nodded, resting his elbows on the table. "Tell me, based on last night, what have you gleaned about my family, my country and of me?" he asked, leaning forward and resting his chin on interwoven fingers.

_A test of my intuition is it? Very well._ Lorenz placed his own cup of tea down giving Claude his full attention. "Well the most obvious observation I’ve made is that you are not fully Almyran are you?"

Claude smiled but said nothing, permitting Lorenz to continue.

"Your mother was Fodlan and died recently. This trade agreement is your father's way of honoring her dying wish. She was a vocal supporter of ending the border skirmishes and fostering peace between nations… a policy which seems rather unpopular with the old religious sects, the generals, the Almyran equivalent of House nobles, and basically everyone."

"Ok so you got the obvious stuff figured… what else?"

Lorenz furrowed his brow trying to remember everything that happened last night in between the hustle and bustle of meeting everyone. It _was_ notable that the Almyran courtesans didn't approach him when he first arrived, but they all seemed to trip over themselves after Bahadur greeted him. "Your uncle… is the leader among the Noble faction?"

Claude's smile widened. "Good."

He recalled Gaspar's nasty little sneer in Claude's direction. "Your cousin… has a bit of a rivalry with you." And Claude ignoring him. "A one-sided rivalry at that."

"Yep. What else?"

Lorenz pondered, a crooked finger tapping his chin. He thought he covered everything but maybe he missed something, some piece that was supposed to connect all these thoughts together. 

"Most Almyrans see Fodlan as weaker…” he trailed off, recalling Jazmin’s words from last night. “A conquest mindset clearly.” He snorted disdainfully which caused Claude to frown. Still he continued, voicing his thoughts aloud. 

“They probably couldn't stand the thought of a Fodlan, even a half Fodlan, on the throne. They've been trying to kill you and they've probably been trying to kill your mother too..." Suddenly it all clicked together, as he leaned back in his seat, eyeing Claude with narrowed eyes. "And you think... someone has succeeded."

Claude silently nodded standing from his seat and making his way to the railing, the breeze tousling his hair slightly. He closed his eyes, leaning into the wind with his head tilted back, before opening them again and turning back to face Lorenz. "Father made a promise to honor my mom's dying wish. I made a silent promise to her as well. I'll find out who killed her and make them pay for it _dearly._" he said, a cold smile on his face, his voice rearing back like a rattlesnake prepared to bite.

“And how exactly do you propose to do that? Assuming that she was even murdered as you claim.” Lorenz huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re father said it was an illness.”

“Maman was fit as a fiddle days before this mysterious illness took her in her sleep. And our doctor had no answers as to what had killed her.”

“Maybe your Almyran doctors are simply incompetent. Back home in Fodlan--”

A hand slammed on the table, rattling the silverware and when Lorenz whipped his head up Claude’s face was creased in rage, his nostrils flared and his green eyes dark like an oncoming storm.

“Our family doctor has saved my life more times than I care to count. If he says something was suspicious about my Maman’s death, I believe him,” Claude said, venom clear in his voice.

Lorenz stared wide eyed, frozen like a deer before a hunter, he dared not even to breathe.

Claude blinked, seeming to come back to himself as he stood up to full height and walked back to his side of the table to give Lorenz some space. He looked ashamed as he crashed into his seat, rubbing the back of his neck as he opened his mouth to apologize “I--”

“No, I’m sorry.” Lorenz interrupted with a hand raised to silence him. “This is clearly a sore subject and I didn’t mean to dispute the possibility of foul play. Such things are unfortunately common with nobility in Fodlan.” _Hubert Von Vestra, father killer supreme, has probably cornered that particular market._ “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t letting baseless paranoia get the better of you. That you have a plan.” 

Lorenz sighed, running a nervous hand through his curtain of hair. “But my wording was callous all the same. Her death has clearly hurt you and your father. I am sorry, it won’t happen again.”

Claude inhaled deeply, his eyes shining with the possibility of unshed tears. But the next second his face had smoothed over. “Thank you,” Claude said, with a soft smile. “And I apologize as well for losing my temper, you are _always_ permitted to speak your mind with me. I even prefer you to. It keeps me from doing something stupid.” He teased, diffusing the tension built between them.

“But to alleviate your concern, yes, I do have a plan.” Claude said before giving a sheepish smile. “And you are a huge part of it, dear Lorenz.”

Lorenz’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Me?”

“Yeah.” He leaned forward. “As you say, Almyran Courtesans can’t stand people from Fodlan, and a snotty Fodlan noble is on his way to becoming a co-king with a filthy little halfling such as myself.”

“Snotty--!?” Lorenz snarled, offended.

“You, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, are perfect assassination bait.” Claude grinned. “Oh you should have seen Uncle’s face. He was positively livid.”

Lorenz wondered if he should maybe have been more annoyed that a sacred political union was just another scheme of the Prince's own design. _Well it's not like I am in any position to talk._ His thoughts drifting to the poison in his desk.

“Is that... advisable?” Lorenz asked, taking a distracted sip. “Poking at the Duscur Bear like that?”

“When people are angry, they get clumsy.” Claude grinned cheekily. “What I refer to as the Claude tactic.”

“Well that’s all well and good when you are risking your own neck.” Lorenz huffed reaching for a halfmoon-shaped pastry covered in a dusting of powdered sugar. “But what of me and my well being?”

“I _did_ warn you.” Claude pointed out.

Lorenz ignored him in favor of taking a small bite of the pastry. Inside was a mixture of nuts sweetened and held together with a sticky sweet syrup, and tasting faintly of cardamom. Delicious. “And what made me so special over any other noble?” he asked after he finished, wiping his hands of the residue sugar on his napkin. “I get why it had to be an Alliance noble but you knew my name. How?”

Claude smiled mysteriously. “I have other goals besides finding Maman’s killer and I have spies that tell me you are next in line to take over the Alliance, is that so?”

Lorenz froze, eyes wide. “Spies? In the Alliance!? How!? Where!?”

“Well if I told you _that_ it would defeat the purpose of putting them there in the first place.” Claude chuckled.

Lorenz narrowed his eyes at Claude, scrutinizing. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

“How would an Almyran spy sneak past Fodlan’s Locket?”

“How indeed?”

“It’s utterly impossible.”

“Sure is.”

Lorenz glared and Claude blinked at him innocently, taking a glazed pastry from the tray before him. He cocked an eyebrow inquisitively as he took a bite.

“Well?” he asked, licking the glaze from his fingers “Is the Gloucester House poised to seize control of the Leicester Alliance or not?”

Lorenz sighed holding the cup in hands. It was growing cold but thankfully that was what the samovar was for as Claude poured in more lukewarm tea and Lorenz topped it with hot water. “Yes you are correct.” Lorenz sighed, placing the sugar cube between his teeth as he had seen Claude do and taking a sip. The sugar melting slightly from the heat of the tea giving each sip just the right amount of sweetness. It was quite inventive. “The Von Riegan family has been in a steady decline for sometime but it’s fate was sealed with the death of it’s only heir Godfrey Von Riegan.”

The expression on Claude’s face was an interesting one. Somber, but looking very uncomfortable. As if he was standing before his wardrobe, unsure of what to wear for a funeral.

“That’s unfortunate… for Von Riegen I mean.”

“But surely your spies knew as much.” Lorenz commented.

Claude shook himself out of his mood, giving Lorenz an innocent smile. “What spies?”

Lorenz let out an exasperated sigh. “That being said, Gloucester is a house of considerable wealth and prestige.” Lorenz declared with pride, his chest puffed out. “Thus, we are slated to be the next leader of the Alliance, and I with my crest, bear the title of Gloucester’s future heir. I will be leading the Alliance to a prosperous future.”

“Assuming you aren’t stuck being my blushing bride.” Claude grinned resting an elbow on the table and his cheek on his fist. “Right?”

Lorenz frowned. Was that what Claude wanted? Unlikely. Lorenz may not have known him for very long but he didn't seem the type to just keep things on the surface level. There were unfathomable depths in his gaze and layers upon layers that needed to be peeled back. So what did he want with Lorenz specifically? What could the future Alliance leader offer him that no one else could?

“So that’s your endgame isn’t it?” Lorenz asked, placing a hand on the table as the pieces slotted into place. “Not just with trade, you want complete open borders between Almyra and the Alliance”

Claude's smile widened. “I mean it's not the only endgame but yeah something like that.” Claude said, holding out a free hand over the table. “What do you say Lorenz… do we have a deal?”

“Deal?”

“Sure, the courting period I mentioned is about 6 months to a year. Before that happens you’ll help me find my mom’s killer and once that’s squared away, I’ll annul the marriage and you can go back to Fodlan as the Leicester Alliance’s new forward thinking leader.”

“Then together, we can work to improve relations between our countries. Become proper allies, sounds fun right?” He grinned cheekily.

_The gall! Does he think I was born yesterday! If he thinks I’m just going to let an Almyran army waltz through Fodlan’s Throat..._ Lorenz thought with gritted smile. _Your endgame hardly matters to me because you, my dear prince, are going to die._

He would have to inform his father of possible Almyran spies as soon as possible, as well as everything he just learned. But for now, right now...

“Very well Prince Claude, future King of Almyra. You have a deal.” Lorenz sighed, shaking his hand.

\----------

A few hours passed, the two of them polishing off the tea and pastries with Lorenz asking the occasional question about what this and that was called. The half moon pastries were called Ghotab and glazed ones were called Zaban; which meant tongue as Claude pointed out by sticking his tongue out. It was almost charming in a way. 

They were just about finished when a knock sounded at the door.

“Shahzade Claude!”

Lorenz glanced up from where he was sitting as a man dressed in a servant’s robe walked into the room and out onto the balcony.

He bowed to Lorenz briefly with an apologetic smile before walking over to Claude’s side muttering in the Almyran tongue. Claude responded, his brow furrowed before wiping his mouth with the napkin. 

“My apologies, it seems my father wishes to speak with me.” Claude sighed. “Can you keep yourself entertained for a bit? I’ll be back shortly.”

“Of course. Is everything alright?” Lorenz asked his brow crumpled slightly with concern.

“Yeah, it’s probably a petty squabble he wants me to sort out. Nothing major.”

“Alright, best of luck.”

Lorenz waited until they both left and for the door to shut with a click behind them, before placing his cup down and walking back into Claude’s room.

Any secrets worth finding were bound to be in this room. He started with the desk which was a futile endeavor as everything was written in the Almyran language, a practically unreadable scrawl.

He then took to the bookshelf shuffling through the few Fodlan books. The first one was a fairytale of all things, Loog and the Maiden of Wind. The cover emblazoned with the familiar image of Faerghus first king clad in armor with his loyal squire Kyphon by his side. It was a decent copy, battered from frequent use but with a thin layer of dust on the top. It hasn't been touched recently.

The next was a book bound in blue leather, when Lorenz opened it he found it contained a collection of poems from lady Wilhelmina Wagner, a respected poet from Adrestia. Lorenz never figured Claude the romantic type, but given his penchant for wordplay maybe he really shouldn’t have been so surprised.

There were surely more important books that Lorenz needed to look through, but to ignore the genius prose of Lady Wagner was nothing short of a crime and there were some in this collection he had never read before. Perhaps he could ask Claude to borrow…

_No Lorenz. Focus._ Lorenz huffed snapping the book shut and sliding it back into place.

The third book was a large, heavy tome that Lorenz had to pull out with both hands. The cover was black with stamped lettering painted in gold. This book was one he was well acquainted with and seized his heart in the pull of nostalgia from Lorenz's days at the academy. Professor Byleth taught from this very book despite the highly controversial material within.

It was a book on the history of Fodlan battle tactics, but it focused on the tactics of the losing sides in Fodlan's various conflicts, a compendium of mistakes as it were. Lorenz had once scoffed at his professor's unorthodox choice of teaching material, which was vastly different from his father's lessons that victory was tantamount and whatever means to achieve that end were necessary.

Now, his brow held a ghost of an ache at the memory of being so thoroughly schooled with flicks to his forehead. He remembered his Professor's small smile, as rare as a new blossom at the end of winter as he held out a hand to help him up.

_"Now Lorenz, what have we learned?"_

_I wish you were with me now Professor._ Lorenz sighed wistfully, sliding the tome back into place. He could feel tears prick at the corners of his eyes. _I took your guidance for granted and now I need it more than ever._

This particular book was a rare one. Not many copies existed even within the Officer's Academy. It was only with the Church's considerable resources and the professor's rumored favoritism in the eyes of Rhea that he was even able to acquire enough copies for his class. If Claude managed to snag a copy for his personal library...

_So it's not just a bluff after all, he does have a man on the inside._

After a quick skim through some of the other titles, Lorenz cast a quick glance back at the door, unsure of how much more time he had left before Claude’s return.

He was about to go back out onto the balcony, make like he hadn't moved from the spot at all when Claude returned, but his eyes were caught in the sun's glare, reflecting off of something sitting upon Claude’s bedside table.

It was a box, painted in a glazed black. It would appear unassuming to anyone else, but Lorenz was familiar with this item.

It was an Alliance safety box.

They were all the rage in the Alliance back in the early years. Many having been used to hold items of value for the noblesse. The idea was that each box had a special pattern in the form of sliding tiles on the lid. The code to unlock the box was handcrafted by the maker at the Noble’s request and inside the Noble kept something of value that they did not want to fall into the wrong hands. They had fallen out of fashion as the amount of items that needed to be hidden away outgrew the relatively small storage space the safety box could provide. But there were collectors and treasure hunters who coveted these items, fascinated by what items within could have outlived their owners.

Lorenz picked it up, holding it to his ear as he gave it a careful shake. Something within rattled against the walls of the inner chamber.

_Oh Prince Claude, what could you have possibly hidden in this box that is more telling than the books on your shelf?_ Lorenz wondered as he sat down to examine the sliding tiles. There was no visible pattern on the tiles, the surface of each of them smooth and even. It's possible this box was magic based, the pattern revealing itself only when a particular spell was used, but Lorenz wasn't going to risk burning this box if it damaged the prize within.

Instead he started fiddling with the tiles, hoping maybe he could open it by sheer luck. That was highly unlikely; with 8 tiles in a 3 by 3 grid and countless possibilities, there was no way he could solve it without an image to go by. But he was engrossed now, determined to solve this puzzle and find out what was inside.

"Well now what have we here."

Lorenz's heart leapt into his throat as he whirled around to see Claude leaning with his back against the closed door.

"W-when did you get in?" Lorenz asked trying not to look like he was caught doing something bad.

"A little while ago, but you looked like you were getting into it, I didn't want to interrupt." He didn't look mad at Lorenz for snooping, he looked more amused than anything. "I leave you alone for 20 minutes and you start digging through my stuff." He sucked in a breath through his teeth twisting his head slightly. "Not how I go about earning trust."

"You act like you didn't dig through my things yesterday while your guide took me on a tour through the city."

"Fair point. Okay, I'll give you that one. Lorenz, one, me, zero," Claude smiled walking over to pluck the box from Lorenz's fingers.

"...What's inside?" Lorenz asked, figuring it was at least worth a shot.

Claude smiled the charming smile pointedly placing the box back on the end table. "It's actually a charm from the Almyran holiday of Nunya."

"Nunya?"

"Yep, Nunya business." Claude grinned looking quite pleased with himself.

Lorenz scowled.

"I believe that's _my_ point." He chuckled pressing a hand to his chest. "So, now that we are all tied up, want to go on a little trip?"

"A trip?" Lorenz asked, a brow raised inquisitively. "Where to?"

Claude smiled beckoning for Lorenz to follow. "Due North," he said as Lorenz followed him out the door, "to the port city of Amastris."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Assume that I am always going to thank Cali for being the best beta ever. Evonee for her awesome reference images and Melika for them cultural checks.
> 
> Speaking on that I have not been using proper honorifics and it will not stand. So I will be going back to edit the previous chapters to include them (at some point) and will be using them from here on out when Claude talks with his people. They are as follows.  
-joon/-jaan: goes after a first name, friendly and familiar  
Agha-/khanoom-: goes before a surname and is the equivilant of Sir/Miss. More respectful

Down the hall from Claude's room, following almost the entire eastern wing of the palace to the very end was another set of steps. Spiraling up towards the tall ceilings and stopping before an arched door, wood polished smooth and reinforced by heavy metal brackets and hinges.

Lorenz had been sputtering after Claude since he had told them where they were going. The capital city was in central Almyra after all and if they were to ride North, to where the ocean and land met, at this late hour they were surely not going to be able to return until tomorrow.

"On horseback maybe." Claude said, taking the spiral steps two at a time. "But we're going by wyvern."

Lorenz felt the color drain from his face, before letting out a sigh and following after the prince, his feet dragging behind him.

The door opened into a vast cavernous room, located in what appeared to be hollowed out portion of the mountain. Various pens were built along the walls, crafted in the approximation of large bird houses with ladders and gangplanks to connect them. Lorenz could see young boys navigating the room with buckets of raw meat and rakes. One such boy was holding out a carcass of a dead rabbit at the end of a hooked stick as a wyvern head emerged from the nest to devour the offered meal.

“Welcome to the Wyvern Eyrie,” Claude said with a sweeping flourish of his arm. “Nice right?”

“Just lovely.” Lorenz said sarcastically covering his face with his sleeve to keep out the smell of wyvern excrement.

Claude removed his glove to place his finger and his thumb between his lips, letting out a shrill whistle.

From one of the higher nests Lorenz saw a white head peak out of the shadows before diving head first out of it’s pen. The white wyvern spread its wings to slow it’s fall, coming to a landing at it’s master’s feet shoving a draconic muzzle into Claude’s hands.

“Hello Mahin,” Claude cooed softly scratching the underside of the wyvern’s chin with his bare hand. “Did you miss me sweetheart?”

The wyvern let out a snort before it’s yellow gaze slid to Lorenz, scrutinizing him closely.

“Mahin?” Lorenz asked, tasting the syllables on his tongue.

“It means 'moon like',” Claude explained, sliding his hand to the top of her snout, skimming along a pale scar that travelled from her left nostril to just under her eye. “Her unique coloring makes her a bit of an outsider among her kind. We’re kindred spirits in that way.”

Lorenz reached out a hand to pet her flank and was met with a low snarl as the wyvern jerked her head in his direction, Mahin’s sharp teeth bared from under a curled lip. Lorenz jerked his hand away, taking a few cautionary steps back for good measure.

“Aw babe, don’t be jealous he’s just a temporary thing.” Claude chuckled, turning her head back to face him. “What we have is special,” he said, sounding quite serious as he rested his forehead against hers so they were eye to eye.

“If you are quite finished making kissy faces at a _wyvern,_” Lorenz huffed angrily lowering his hand and placing it on his hip to hide the fact that it was shaking, “which one will I be taking?”

“Whoa no can do, wyverns are not for first time flyers.”

Lorenz stuck his chin out defiantly. “I am _not_ a first time flyer.”

“Pegasi don’t count and you know it.” Claude pointed out. “Look, I’m being serious here, wyverns are picky about their masters. You could get knocked off in midair and be seriously hurt or killed. You’re riding with me.”

Lorenz glanced at Mahin who was still eyeing him with suspicion. “And how do you propose I do that when she obviously detests me?”

Claude let out a sigh through his nose, going over to where Lorenz was standing, capturing his hand with his gloved one and all but dragging him by his wrist to stand before her, face to face.

“The problem is that you tried to pet her flank where she's vulnerable. She’s been through a lot so try just holding your hand out.” He held up Lorenz’s hand so it was arm’s length from his body. He then slid his open bare hand against Lorenz’s, coaxing him to uncurl his fingers so their palms were pressed against each other.

Lorenz jolted at the contact. Lorenz’s fingers were slightly longer, his palm more oval in shape whereas Claude’s was more square, but the starkest difference had to be the skin color. The tan warm hand pressed against his cool pale one. Claude’s fingers were slightly callused at the index and middle finger, a bow wielder’s hand.

“Like so,” Claude finished, jerking his hand away. Lorenz’s fingers crumpled slightly at the loss, like a sail devoid of wind. In his peripheral vision, he saw Claude hastily shove his glove back on as he went to retrieve Mahin’s tack.

Lorenz held out his hand motionless for what felt like hours, but was surely only minutes as Claude returned with a saddle and reins. The staring contest between him and Mahin continued and Lorenz felt like an absolute fool. His eyes drifted towards that scar on her nose and Lorenz found himself wondering how she got it. Was it a hunter, looking to sell her unique pelt? One of her own, who slashed at her when she tried to get too close to their territory?

_He and Marianne were once tasked with scouting the forests after one of the merchants reported suspicious activity outside the surrounding villages. Things were going fairly smoothly until Lorenz tried to scout a little deeper into the woods. His horse, Rosemary, had stubbornly refused to go in the direction he wanted and Lorenz was a little harsh in trying to force her, digging his heels a little too deeply into her sides._

_With an angry whinny, she reared back in an attempt to buck him off. Startled, Lorenz lost his grip on the reins. Before he could grab for Rosemary's mane he tumbled sideways off her back. Lorenz hitting the ground hard as her front hooves touched back down to the forest floor._

_Marianne dismounted her steed and rushed over, her face stricken with panic until she heard Lorenz groan from where he crumpled on the forest floor. While she calmed Rosemary down, Lorenz tried pushing himself to a sitting position but a jolt of pain shot up his arm causing him to crumple back onto the ground with a pained whimper._

_"Let me see." She crouched beside him to check his limb prodding lightly with careful fingers. "Nothing seems broken at least, just a strain." She smiled in relief and with a brush of faith magic the pain in his arm dissipated. It was once she was certain he was perfectly fine, however, that she started giggling. _

_Lorenz flushed in humiliation, an arm laying over his red face as he flopped onto his back. He was hoping this would be a chance to impress Marianne with a gallant display of his horsemanship. Perhaps even a chance to prove himself in her eyes by protecting her from brigands or whatever was out here._

_“Sorry...” she trailed off, wiping a stray tear from her eye. “But you… um kind of deserved that.”_

_"I deserved it!?" Lorenz sputtered, sitting up to glare at Rosemary, brushing his hair of dirt and leaves. "For what!? Trying to direct her to go where she needed to go? There was nothing there, so why was she so spooked?”_

_"She must have had a good reason, horses aren't that different from people after all." Marianne stood offering Lorenz her hand to help him up._

_“Is that so?” Lorenz groaned allowing himself to be pulled up. His riding pants were fine but the left sleeve of his silk doublet was stained with mud and grass stains. No amount of washing would ever see it clean, it would have to be scrapped. “Then enlighten me Marianne, how is a dumb, four legged animal the same as a person?”_

_She actually looked slightly annoyed at that, the normally shy girl’s eyes narrowed. “Well for starters, horses are not dumb,” she huffed, picking up a fallen branch. She then went over to the area of forest where Lorenz had been headed before his fall, stabbing at a section of the ground with the wood. A metal trap, hidden by foliage, snapped shut around the branch, its metal teeth digging deep into the wood. “I daresay they are smarter than you most of the time.”_

_“Poachers,” Lorenz said as Marianne brought the trap over to him, the hunter’s seal welded into the metal of unknown origin. “And this close to the Monastery, how bold of them. We should inform the professor at once,” Lorenz declared going over to his horse but the creature denied him, ears tipping back._

_“What is the meaning of this?”_

_“Rosie wants an apology,” Marianne stated before she folded her arms over her torso nervously, looking uncomfortable. “...um at least I think so.”_

_“Marianne, she is a horse!” Lorenz said, sounding exasperated. “She won’t understand me even if I do!”_

_“Well…” Marianne murmured looking to Lorenz with a hardened expression. “What if she was a soldier under your command, is she just supposed to follow your commands unquestioningly as you lead her into danger?”_

_Lorenz had nothing to say to that, truthfully he never heard Marianne say so much at any one time. She seemed to be coming into her own as of late, like a flower blooming before his eyes. When he didn’t respond, Marianne continued, patiently and as soft spoken as ever._

_“Like people, horses don’t like being told what to do by someone they don’t trust. If they have been hurt by a incompetent rider, that trust can be slow to restore.” She sighed going over to pet her horse’s mane._

_“In those cases, you must **earn **that trust and you do so by trusting them first...”_

This wasn’t a horse… but maybe the same rules applied.

Lorenz closed his eyes and turned his head away, leaving his arm outstretched to be bitten or clawed or whatever the creature before him decided to do with it.

_I trust you, you damnable creature. _Lorenz squeezed his eyes shut tight. _Whatever you’ve been through, I’m sorry but I won’t harm you._

Mahin’s head drew closer, he could sense her like a shadow on his skin. He felt the breath from her nostrils mist his fingers. For a nerve wracking minute, nothing happened, but then he felt the muzzle pressed against his hand. Lorenz’s eyes popped open and he turned his head to face the wyvern. Her eyes were still open, staring at him reluctantly but with a huff she pushed further against his hand tilting her head slightly so it dragged against her muzzle on the side opposite the scar.

“Oh,” Lorenz said softly feeling oddly touched as he tucked his curtain of hair behind his ear with his free hand. “Thank you,” he whispered in relief, stepping in closer to scratch the leathery skin under her chin.

“Aw… that’s adorable.”

Lorenz jumped, having forgotten that Claude was still there as the prince placed the saddle on the small section of her back just above her wings, tightening the straps before sliding two fingers under to give it a little leeway. “Avoid the top of her snout, but she also likes being scratched a little further back by her jaw,” he said, observing Lorenz with a soft fond expression.

Lorenz reached back to do just that and was pleasantly surprised by the low rumble that sounded almost like a purr as she nosed at his torso. Lorenz looked down at her, his mouth open to say something when he received a shock as Mahin dragged her tongue from his chin to his hairline in one broad stroke.

Lorenz stood there, his face moist with wyvern spit, before he made a disgusted noise, wiping his face with his sleeve while Claude laughed at him.

“Well you’re hers now,” he snickered and whatever spell he was under was broken as he gave Lorenz a cheeky grin.

"How fortunate," Lorenz said, fussing with his hair as Claude placed the bit in her mouth. A few of the servant boys moved to open a large double door that led outside onto a wide landing. From here Lorenz could see more of the eastern Almyran view that he glimpsed from Claude's window.

The prince hoisted himself onto Mahin's back motioning behind him for Lorenz to follow suit. Lorenz climbed on, unsure of where to put his hands deciding to awkwardly rest them on Claude's shoulders.

Claude turned his head to the side. "You're gonna have to hold on tighter than that."

"Quite alright, it'll be fine like this," Lorenz said, ignoring the heat radiating through Claude's layers.

Claude just shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself." 

He then clicked his tongue as Mahin spread her wings, ascending into the sky slowly before taking a swan dive down the side of the cliffs towards the plains below.

Lorenz let out a shriek at the sudden drop in altitude and wrapped his arms in a vice grip around Claude's waist with his eyes squeezed tight. The wind rippled through Lorenz’s hair, leaving it entirely in disarray, as Mahin slowed her decent, leveling out to an even glide over the ground below. "Lorenz open your eyes!" Claude's voice shouted over the wind roaring in his ears.

Lorenz shook his head.

"Come on! You're missing the view!"

"What could there possibly be worth seeing in this wasteland?" Lorenz snapped and immediately felt bad for it.

But Claude just laughed it off good naturedly. "See for yourself."

Lorenz reluctantly opened his eyes and was stunned by the view before him. Just over the distant hill from Claude's room Lorenz could see a swath of the greenery beyond, a valley between two hills acting as a basin for a mirror like lake.

Mahin turned northward, flying parallel to the rivers below. Lorenz could see the farms situated along the rivers, people as small as ants, troughing the soil below.

"They haven’t finished planting yet?" Lorenz asked, concerned. It was already the last week of Harpstring Moon, if the seeds weren't planted by now...

"The rainy season begins next week," Claude explained, his gaze forward. "The rivers flood during that time and provide silt for the soil but if we planted now, we would lose the seeds." He eased his grip on the reins. "Almyra stays relatively warm most of the year so we can afford to plant a little later."

Lorenz counted backwards in his mind, one week till Garland Moon, two weeks till his 21st birthday. He wondered if it was even worth mentioning. Would Claude even bother to give his “bait” a birthday gift?

Lorenz looked over at Claude, his hair windswept from his face, he looked happy up here. Not in that over exuberant way like before, but more at ease, calm. The sky suited him.

"Mom used to take me," Claude said so softly, and if not for the rumble Lorenz could feel under his hands, he would have assumed it was wind talking. "She loved flying. 'Problems can't find you here' she used to say."

"I suppose there is wisdom in that." Lorenz said. "So long as you are prepared to face them once your feet are on solid ground."

Claude laughed, tired and strained. "There is always a catch isn't there?"

The land underneath them changed as they followed the river north. The rolling hills ascended higher into mountain ranges as Mahin glided effortlessly between them, the river current below growing stronger as smaller streams fed into it. He could even spy a village below, loading small boats with crates. Flying past a length of cliff Lorenz could spot a snow-capped mountain further to the distant east, standing stark against the horizon, as sharp as a wolf's fang.

"Is that part of Almyra too?" Lorenz asked.

Claude followed his gaze, a grin on his face. "Yes, that is the Alborz mountain range."

It was startling how much this land continued to surprise him. No less than a two hour flight and he was in a completely different environment. He truly thought it was all as arid as the area from the Fodlan's Throat to Almyra’s capital city.

The land flattened out once more, a valley of yellow flowers blowing in the breeze. Then Mahin ascended over a mountain range, a stone wall built along the top with wyvern-mounted guards circling the perimeter like vultures.

Claude waved, shouting something in Almyran and the guards shouted back, tone cheerful and welcoming. Claude then pushed Mahin to fly over the wall, and it was here that Lorenz could see it.

The endless blue of the sea, a rush of briny sea air and a city shimmering white and red in the sun, buildings strung along the line of the cove like a string of pearls.

"Amastris?" Lorenz asked, nearly breathless in awe.

"Amastris," Claude confirmed.

After docking Mahin at the wyvern stables on the outskirts of town. Claude maneuvered them down the slanted city streets, past the various white stone houses. Lorenz couldn't help but stop every now and again, squinting at the symbols on the signs and trying to make out what was what.

Some were easy and had pictures, like a building with a metal horseshoe sign hanging over the doors. Others opened onto the street and filled the air with the smell of spices like cardamom and clove. The rest were complete indecipherable but Claude was moving too fast for him to stop and ask.

They made their way to the water, where gulls cawed in the distance. A man made levee stretched before them with boats moored along its docks. Claude made a beeline for one of the docks where an Almyran longboat was unloading crate after crate, that were opened and counted before a nervous looking bespectacled bookkeeper.

A man stood behind him, arms folded over his chest as he inspected each crate with focus. He was on the young side but older than either of them, if the heavy bags under his eyes were any indication. He was dressed lavishly in fine fabrics of a red wine and golden hue. The half cape on his shoulder shimmered in the sun as the wind tossed it behind him, revealing a curved shamshir tucked into the red and gold sash around his waist. On his head sat a crimson turban with much of his hair tucked into it. Lorenz noted that unlike many of the other Almyrans he met, this man bore no visible scars on his face and on his fingers were multiple gold rings.

As they approached the dock, the man looked up from his inspection and his brow changed from an irritated furrow to surprised recognition as he rushed forward over to meet them halfway along the dock.

“_Shahzadeh-Claude_,” he said, his gaze sliding to Lorenz giving him a pleasant smile, “and a guest,” he continued in perfect Fodlan, as crisp and clear as Claude’s. “I must say I didn’t expect you to come all this way. You should have sent word so I could have better welcomed you both.”

“Oh, it was hardly any trouble and I aspire to always be unexpected, it keeps you on your toes,” Claude said playfully.

The man actually laughed at that. "That it does, cheeky brat." 

Claude stepped aside, pushing Lorenz forward with a hand on his lower back. “Lorenz, this is Darius Parsi, Head Merchant of the Bazaari in Northern Almyra.”

Lorenz's eyes darted to Claude's, asking silently for instruction on how to greet the man but Claude just smiled and shook his head slightly. _No games here, it's fine,_ he seemed to be saying.

“Lorenz Gloucester,” Lorenz greeted with a regular bow.

“Delighted to meet you Agha-Gloucester. It seems the Almyran sun has greeted you with a kiss on your nose.” Darius chuckled when Lorenz hurriedly covered his nose behind his hands. “My most sincere apologies for not being able to attend your welcome feast.”

Claude folded his arms over his chest, face grim. “In regards to that, my father has some choice words for you.”

“Surely the King didn’t need me there.” Darius groaned pinching the bridge of his nose. “Agha-Jahandar attended did he not? Is the Satrap of Northern Almyra not an adequate representative ?”

“Not in the same way you would have been.” Claude frowned.

The older man let out an exhale through his nose. “Yes, I suppose that is a fair point… apologies once more but as you can see,” he nodded his head towards the ship, men continuing to unload crates, “I’ve been very busy since yesterday.”

Claude’s face cracked to a half smile. A break in the facade. “Is that what I think it is?”

Darius’ mouth twitched in the beginnings of a suppressed smile of his own. “Would you like to see for yourself?” He stood aside motioning with his arm for them to walk ahead of him.

Claude sauntered over casually as a sea worn man cracked open another crate and Lorenz followed closely to peek inside. Lining the inner walls of the crate were ice magic sigils, designed to keep the contents of the crate cold and inside...

“Noa Fruit!” Lorenz gasped reaching in to grab one of the orange fruits, brushing his thumb against the familiar winter hardened rind. It was in perfect condition too, firm with a slight give, an indication of ripeness.

“So that’s what these are called? Noa fruit...” Darius hummed taking one for himself, appraising it like a jeweler would a gemstone. “A new shipment of exotic imports to sell...”

Lorenz twisted his head to look at the merchant, taking note of the greed in his light brown eyes. “These are Fodlan goods,” Lorenz commented going over to look at another crate, this one containing different furs.

“Right you are Agha-Gloucester.” Darius hummed, tossing the fruit to Claude, who deftly caught it.

“It’s nice to see your father can keep his end of the bargain,” Claude commented offhandedly, digging a nail into the rind to peel it from the fruit.

"My father?"

"Yeah, Darius was our middle man when it came to negotiating terms of our trade agreement. Including our betrothal." Claude wagged his eyebrows playfully. Lorenz rolling his eyes.

"Which had me quite shocked, I hadn't the slightest inkling that you were even interested in marriage." His gaze slid to Claude between narrowed eyes. "You aren't planning something, are you young prince?"

Lorenz tensed but Claude simply smiled, taking a bite of the fruit in lieu of answering, the sweet juices running down his chin. 

"Very well, keep your secrets," Darius said, his tone casual. "But give me prior warning, so I can brace for the oncoming storm won't you? I don't think that's too much to ask for."

"It’s not," Claude agreed, taking another bite. "This is good, sweet. I'm glad the trade agreement seems to be bearing literal fruit," he said, a clumsy change of topic.

Still Darius allowed it, looking over his ship. “Well, that remains to be seen,” Darius said. “I’ve been checking over each one to be sure. Nothing worse than a man who can’t honor his promises and no offense, but I don't trust your father Agha-Gloucester.”

Despite the forewarning, Lorenz was fully offended, driven to defend his family name. “My father is a noble man, he would never dishonor a promise made.”

“Are you certain?” Darius turned to Lorenz, scrutinizing him like a butterfly pinned to a card, before closing his eyes and turning away. “Your father is merely a man, and like men, he is motivated by self interest." 

He then came up next to him to lean over the crate next to Lorenz, muttering low. "A troublesome sort to be sure but I somehow made this deal possible. Now I just have to make sure it keeps or else he and I are going to have a _problem_.”

Something about the way he said it. Cold and business like with his eyes intent on the contents within. It made Lorenz swallow nervously. Maybe this was someone father should not have made a deal with.

“I suppose I should thank you Agha-Parsi,” Claude interjected pulling Lorenz from his thoughts, “for helping to fulfill my Mother’s dying wish.”

Darius' expression softened slightly, looking ten years older suddenly, his eyes misty as he cleared his throat. “It was hardly any trouble and as a bonus I have special access to goods that none of the other merchants can touch. That is, how do say in Fodlan? A win-win situation?” He turned to Lorenz with a wink.

Lorenz smiled and nodded.

“That being said, having access to these goods means that I can provide them to you Agha-Gloucester. So if you need anything from me, to remind you of home, do not hesitate to ask,” Darius continued reaching to unhook a drawstring pouch from his side. “And here.” He beckoned for Lorenz’s hand enclosing it and the satchel in both of his, the metal from his many rings chilled against Lorenz skin. “Consider it a gift, both as an apology and as a gift to welcome you into my city.”

Lorenz stretched open the satchel with two fingers, a clinking noise and a flash of gold to indicate the coin held within.

“Oh! You shouldn’t have to--” Lorenz opened his mouth to protest but Darius held up a hand.

“Forgive me for interrupting,” Darius said, “but I insist. Also a word of advice about Almyran culture, do not reject any gift given to you during the courtship period. You may think you are being polite but it is considered a grave insult if a consort rejects an offering made in good faith.”

"Oh?" Lorenz turned to glare at Claude. "The Prince had neglected to mention that."

Claude whistled stretching his arms behind his head.

Lorenz then turned back to Darius with a smile, bowing his head. “Then since it would be improper of me to refuse, I'll have to simply thank you Dar- er…” How did Claude say it? Agha-Parsi?"

"There, you got it," Darius encouraged lightly with a smile. “Or you can call me Darius or Darius-joon if it pleases you.” He laughed, reaching a hand to pat his shoulder. “Besides, any coin you spend here will return to my pocket eventually,” he smiled brightly, “and keeping a future leader happy is always a profitable investment.”

Claude waited until they were a good distance away, nestled deeply into the crowded Bazaar before speaking low in Lorenz’s ear.

“So...” he hummed trying to sound casual. “What did you think of our merchant friend?”

Truthfully Lorenz wasn’t sure. On one hand he seemed like a kind man, intelligent and well spoken, but on the other he may have also been making a threat against his father through Lorenz. _Don’t think of the poison._ “He seems like a nice man, clever like you,” Lorenz offered around the lump in his throat, looking over the coins. "He’s most certainly generous."

“A little greedy too,” Claude said, sighing through his nose. “But it’s a greed that is in alignment with my goals so I don’t see him as a problem. Plus he’s a pariah among the Bazaari, so as you can imagine, we get along great.”

“You might have to explain what that is to the lost Fodlan outsider who didn't even know that it was considered a severe faux pas to reject gifts.” Lorenz said with a glare. "Were you just going to wait until your uncle tried to gift me with some ornate battle axe that he could cut my head off with?"

Claude actually laughed at that. The nerve. "Okay, so _maaaybe_ I've been keeping quiet about some Almyran formalities because I thought it would be hilarious."

"For you, maybe," Lorenz huffed. "So, what are the Bazaari?"

“_Bazaari_ is what we call our merchant class. They are aligned with the _Ulema_, or clerical class, and mostly deal in petty trade of the traditional or nearly traditional, kind. Meaning that there shall be no pesky Fodlan goods in our Bazaars, no sir,” Claude parroted in a deeper mocking tone of voice.

“Agha-Parsi is head of the Northern Bazaari sure, but he has no such loyalties to any religion save for his own bottom line,” Claude indicated rubbing his thumb and index fingers together. “He doesn’t care if it’s outsider money or insider money. Money is money.”

“He’s only head of the _Bazaari _here… but he also said ‘my city.’” Lorenz said pausing before a jewelry vendor. "He acts as if he owns Amastris."

“Ah, so you caught that.” Claude chuckled, looking mildly impressed. “Yes, the Northern _Satrap _is basically a political figurehead. Darius holds the real power here. He keeps the money and goods flowing in and out, owns nearly half of the ships in the port, has all the guards on his payroll, and he even handles land disputes if he’s got the time.”

That explained the bags under his eyes. “Sounds tiring. Where did he ever find the time to learn to speak Fodlan?”

"Self taught. He claims it made better business sense to learn." He said, before pausing seemingly thinking about something, a finger tapping his chin before he sighed. 

"But Maman thought that he probably learned it for her wedding," he smiled, turning back to the docks with a fond little smile. "At the time she was struggling to learn Almyran and was deeply worried that she would make a bad impression with Baba's family. Darius apparently walked right up to her and spoke in near perfect Fodlan, formally welcoming her to Almyra and if anyone gave her any lip, he would put them in their place. She was so touched by the sentiment and impressed by his gall that they became good friends."

He then chuckled, "When I was little, they played backgammon a lot and she always complained when he beat her."

"Backgammon?"

"Yeah," Claude grinned looking for all intents like an excited child. "It's simple but it requires both strategy and luck to win." He said before proudly puffing out his chest. "I would challenge him to defend her honor and won every time.” He then scowled, arms folded. “But he would always subtly act as if he let me win, it was irritating."

"Maybe he did, you were a child after all," Lorenz teased. “And maybe you aren’t as clever as you think you are.”

Claude huffed. "No, I definitely beat him fair and square," he declared with a pout, his with his cheeks slightly puffed out in indignation. Lorenz could not help but find it just a little adorable.

They walked among the various stalls, Lorenz a little excited now that he had coin of his own to spend. There was something so lively about the Bazaar, that reminded him fondly of the market square in Derdriu. The smell of the sea mingled with the scents of smoked meats and exotic spices. The excited hum of people, young and old, rich and poor, walking among the stalls. The language of the vendors was different as was the skin tone of the people, but beyond that, there was no difference. It was pleasantly nostalgic actually. Lorenz wanted to close his eyes and bury himself in this atmosphere.

But of course, his princely companion managed to find a way to ruin that.

Claude took it upon himself to obnoxiously haggle with every vendor, much to Lorenz's embarrassment. They were attracting stares, he could feel them burning at the back of his neck. He wondered how many of these people knew Claude was their Prince, if any of them even cared beyond their day to day. He recalled fondly the conversation he once had with a commoner who thought he had a tail, a ridiculous notion but perhaps a common occurrence, no matter what country you are in.

"Good news Lorenz, I talked them down to one coin!" Claude grinned at him roguishly. _Cheeky devil is doing this for the express purpose of vexing me._

"Thank you Claude." Lorenz grimaced handing the displeased older man a single gold coin. He took the rose scented candle that Claude was haggling over with him as he hurried away from the scene, dragging Claude behind him by his arm. "But must you make such a scene!" He hissed once they were in a secluded enough spot under the corner of the U-shaped pavilion surrounding the Bazaar, right between two columns.

Claude snickered at him reaching up to brush the curtain of hair behind his shoulder, “Just trying to get you the best deal that’s all. Didn’t want you to get ripped off.”

It was then that Lorenz realized where they were, what it might appear like to any onlookers, and how close they were standing. His heart ratcheted in pace as he quickly took a step back to put more space between them.

Claude almost looked disappointed for a moment before something caught his eye behind Lorenz. Eye wide in intent interest. "Oh, wait here a second," Claude said patting his shoulder as he walked past. "I'll be right back."

"Where are you--"

Claude spun around midstep, walking backwards with a wink and a finger to his lips before spinning back around to disappear into the crowd. Lorenz huffed, folding his arms over his chest and leaning sideways to rest his shoulder against the pillar.

How much longer was Claude going to keep with this playfully mysterious act and start trusting him, he wondered. Claude seemed to actually like Darius enough to be familiar, and even he didn’t know everything. Was there anyone in this country that could claim to know all his secrets? _Probably his mom, _Lorenz’s traitorous thoughts supplied guiltily, _but she’s dead, and her son’s trust probably died right along with her._

Something niggled at the back of his mind. It was a feeling like he was forgetting something or that there was a perfect word for a poem that was right on the tip of his tongue and required further thought. But before he could think about it further, maybe get a better grasp on it, he felt a presence slip in behind him. A sharp point pressed against the inside of his thigh, pricking him through his black riding pants. Lorenz tensed, his senses suddenly alert as a distinctly feminine voice whispered over the blood pulsing in his ear.

“Don’t move.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went without a beta for this chapter. I was too excited and already delayed it long enough. I must have written and rewritten this chapter a million times before I was happy with it.
> 
> No specific thank yous today save for the biggest one. THANK YOU! To everyone who reads, comments, and sends in kudos. Ya'll really keep me going.

Lorenz used to read that in a person’s final moments, their life will flash before their eyes. At first, Lorenz thought such a thing was nothing but pure poetic nonsense but as it turned out it was absolutely true. He personally experienced the phenomenon during year long tenure at the Officer's Academy, where he had more than a few close brushes with death.

Once was in the Red Canyon, when a bandit rushed at Lorenz with his sword drawn. It was his first time experiencing life or death combat, a different beast from the practice matches at the Academy. His heart had lurched in his chest and his body was unwilling to react in a way where he could defend himself. It was a sudden realization that hit him like a slap to the face; that he was going to die. 

In that moment, time seemed to slow. He saw a memory of his time at the mages school, of the late nights spent lighting a small candle with a finger only to snuff it out. The pride it instilled in him, accomplishing something so small.

Half a second later, he was dragged back from his thoughts by the collar of his uniform as Professor Byleth's fluttering coat swept into view. The new teacher had taken the strike meant for Lorenz with a pained grunt and countered back with quick ferocity. He slashed the bandit with an upward motion of his steel blade, starting from the hip cutting across to the opposite shoulder.

The blood from that encounter (the professor's or the bandit's, he couldn't be sure) had gotten on his newest pair of white gloves and refused to come out no matter how hard he washed them. So with a heavy heart, he burned them tossing them into the hearth of the fireplace in the medic bay. 

He vowed never to wear gloves on the battlefield after that.

The second time was when they were tasked with stopping Lord Lonato and his group of militia. Lorenz was aware that Professor Byleth was always keeping a close eye on him, as if expecting Lorenz to mess up and be in need of his rescue once again. It stung at his abused pride like salt on an open wound. He felt childishly affronted at being treated in such a way and pushed ahead to the front lines against Byleth's orders. 

When Lorenz turned the corner of a ruined pillar, there Lord Lonato was, waiting on horseback with a spear in hand. The fact that Lorenz was an eighteen year old teenager seemed to not even occur to the man. He only saw that Lorenz had the Officer’s Academy uniform on, and that was all the man needed to tilt his spear towards Lorenz kick his horse into a gallop.

This time, as Lonato charged toward him, Lorenz was graced with a memory of his mother. 

She was twisting a spear in her hands before stabbing at a particular angle into the horse dummy the servants had built for her out of cloth and straw. She was demonstrating her legendary Knight Kneeler technique for Lorenz who was just a ten year old boy at the time. He clapped jubilantly and his mother graced him with a rare smile that made her eyes crinkle. She then beckoned him over, handing him a smaller practice spear as he approached. 

He held the gifted spear with great care and reverence, as if being given a gift from the Goddess herself. Excitement building in his chest as he turned a proud grin towards his mother, who ruffled his hair. She then leaned down to gently position his hands around the staff and correct his stance with a gentle prod of her steel toed boot against his heel.

_"Now you try it, my son."_

But before he could use the technique his memories supplied him with, Lysithea had appeared beside him. She held out a hand and blasted Lonato in the head with a Swarm spell, throwing the older man off balance. She then grabbed Lorenz by the crook of his elbow and dragged him away so that Catherine could finish the rebellious Lord off with Thunderbrand.

On the ride home that night, while the rest of his classmates slept fitfully, Professor Byleth explained that the phenomenon he experienced was just a very base survival instinct. That it was your mind's way of trying to conjure up a memory that could save you.

So it was there, with a knife pressed to his thigh just above the artery that could kill him, that Lorenz envisioned a much needed memory.

\------

_It was around Blue Sea moon, A week after the Lonato incident and the discovery of a plot to assassinate the Archbishop. Lorenz and many of the other students were tasked with patrolling the grounds for any suspicious individuals or possible alternative targets. These patrols were cutting into Lorenz’s, already limited, training and study time. He was at least looking forward to the weekend where he wouldn’t be tasked with any patrols for two whole days. He could even spend some time writing out a few dinner invites to potential wife candidates. After all, that was half the reason he was even here in the first place._

_As he left the classroom however, a sheet of paper tacked to the classroom bulletin board caught his eye. He paused before it, his eyes skimming the words before he let out an exasperated sigh. He tore the paper off the board and stormed back into the classroom where Professor Byleth was seated at his desk, grading their recent assignments and writing updated reports on their progress._

_He all but slammed the offending document onto the desk. The stoic teacher didn't even flinch at the sound, just pausing in his writing before silently continuing on. Content to ignore Lorenz as long as he possibly could. _

_Lorenz cleared his throat loudly. “Professor what, pray tell, is the meaning of this?”_

_Byleth cool gaze glanced over at the paper before facing up at Lorenz with that stony expression. “Well, that is the sign up sheet for my brawling seminar this weekend. So I believe it means, I’m having a seminar tomorrow, on brawling.” He deadpanned._

_Lorenz squinted at him, mouth twisted in a frown. “Very hilarious professor, should teaching not prove viable, you’ll make for an excellent entertainer.”_

_Byleth’s mouth twitched slightly in a crooked smile that didn't reach his eyes. It was the closest to amused that Lorenz had ever seen him._

_“No, I’m inquiring as to why **my** name is listed on this sheet of paper when I have no recollection of doing so." He clenched the sheet in his hand, lifting it to Byleth's face to stab an index finger at the final name written on the sheet. "And why it's in your, frankly sloppy, penmanship!” Lorenz accused in a low tone._

_“That’s probably because I wrote it on there.” Byleth confessed with a one shouldered shrug, turning back to his papers. “Oh and by the way, I have a seminar on brawling this weekend and I insist you attend or I’m giving you a demerit.” He added casually, causing Lorenz to sputter angrily_

_“Firstly, you cannot be serious! That is an abuse of your position!” Lorenz said, indignantly before standing upright, a hand resting on his hip as he tilted his head back. Taking full advantage of the difference in height to look down at the man before him. “And secondly, because you **seem** to keep forgetting, I am the heir of House Gloucester and my time this month is severely limited thanks to the patrols we are undertaking. I have no time to waste on learning this,” He gestured wildly to the page, “**barbaric** form of combat.”_

_It was incredible how, even while sitting down, the professor's stare knocked all the wind from his sails. It made him feel like a child about to be scolded. “It is my understanding, that your skills in hand to hand combat are, how did you put it? 'sloppy?'" Byleth hummed, again with that calm demeanor. "Which is all the more reason to take this opportunity and learn the basics.”_

_“All the more reason I should spend what little time I have on honing my strengths!” Lorenz argued back._

_It seemed that all he and professor did was argue, from the very first moment the man stepped foot at the academy. Besides the dismissal of Lorenz's important social standing, the man also had horrible table manners and lacked the ability to converse with civilized people. Plus he had the **audacity** to tell Lorenz that he was being a bother to the female population of students. Which was preposterous! Everyone knew he was an absolute delight. Handsome and regal with excellent diction and infinite charisma. How dare this outsider continuously treat him, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, in such a way?_

_“Working on your strengths is important.” Byleth said, placing his quill in the inkwell. He seemed resigned in the knowledge that no work would be done so long as the house leader was here. “But so is improving on your weaknesses. What are you going to do if you are in a situation where a spear isn’t available to you?”_

_“I’ll use my magic.” Lorenz sneered, his chin jutted out._

_“And if your magic has been pushed to its limit. If your hands are so burned that even a basic fire spell is impossible for you, what then?”_

_Lorenz was taken aback, he didn’t have an answer to that. “I— you are just spouting inane hypotheticals, it will never get that far!”_

_“And if it does?” Byleth pressed, his eyes staring intently, unblinking. “If there is anything I learned as a Mercenary that I want to impart to you, Lorenz, it is this: Shit happens.”_

_Lorenz opened his mouth to scold him for his vulgar language but Byleth held out a hand. “Let me finish my point and then you can ream me out for my ‘foul language unbefitting of a professor at an esteemed academy.’” He parroted the last words in his deadpan tone. _

_Lorenz’s jaw clicked shut, his eyes narrowed in a defiant scowl. But he remained silent as requested._

_“As I was saying,” Byleth sighed reaching up to run a hand through his hair. Lorenz suddenly noticed that there were bruised shadows under his eyes. His hair flat and a little oily from not being cared for… come to think of it, did Professor Byleth ever sleep? “You can’t say with certainty that you know what the future holds. Life is unexpected and you could find yourself in a different place many years down the line then where you had planned to be." _

_"I certainly never saw myself teaching at this Academy. Taking responsibility of educating a future leader of the Alliance." Byleth raised a single inquiring brow._

_Lorenz couldn’t help but concede that point. It was rather unfair of Archbishop Rhea to force a man with no prior teaching experience into such a role "A fair point.”_

_“Life sees fit to take us in unexpected directions. For that reason, I would rather you have no weaknesses, even in something that seems unnecessary. It’s better to **have **the basic skills and not need them, than to lack the skills when you do.”_

_Lorenz pondered over the words, a crooked finger against his chin. Despite the disrespect being shown, there was wisdom in Professor's words. As easy as it was to try and stick with his rigid plan, life might not be so kind in the future. So far he's almost died twice and Byleth was clearly concerned about that. He may have been a crude man, but his care for them was a genuine thing, hidden beneath the surface of his cold exterior like a pond under a sheet of ice._

_Lorenz was pulled from his thoughts by a soft exhale from the Professor. “Sorry Lorenz, I was teasing before about the demerit. If you really don’t want to attend, I won’t make you. I just thought you would benefit by going outside of your comfort zone.” He said, his eyes still as passive as ever, but also slightly downcast._

_Another moment of thought was all it took for Lorenz to reluctantly concede, clearing his throat. “Well perhaps, there is **some **wisdom in your advice. I’ll consider it.” He said with a flourish, placing a hand on his hip with his hand hovering by his face. “But only if you let me assist in your own shortcomings and teach you proper tea etiquette before you embarrass our house any further.”_

_Byleth’s brow furrowed like he was about to protest but Lorenz simply raised a single amethyst brow in response._

_“Should you want to, how did you put it? ‘Go outside of your comfort zone’ professor?” He added with a smile._

_Byleth paused before sighing, giving Lorenz a reluctant nod. In hindsight, it felt like this moment marked a change in their teacher-student relationship. Like the last two months of them stubbornly denying the other's point of view day after day was finally giving way to a reluctant compromise._

_“Alright Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, Future leader of the Alliance, you have a deal.”_

—————--

Back in the current moment, Lorenz could barely even breathe. He was reminded of the blade pressing to the thigh, could feel the razor thin edge even through his trousers. His heart pounding so loudly that it was a wonder that no one else could hear it. He opened his mouth and the blade pressed in a little harder.

“Don't scream.” The woman behind him ordered, her voice sharp and harsh. “And don’t try anything.”

Lorenz clamped his mouth shut with a click his eyes darting around the Bazaar, praying to make eye contact with someone, anyone. It was unfortunate they were in a somewhat secluded corner and the sun had sunk low on the horizon, making for more shadows to hide in. But there was still enough light that someone was bound to notice if they could just glance his way.

“Back up.” Ah, seems his assailant thought the same thing. Lorenz swallowed nervously and did as asked, backing further into the shadow of the pavilion. He could still feel her presence behind him, an invisible force, but her steps were so soft as to be nonexistent. The edge of the blade somehow keeping level with his movements.

“Who sent you?” He asked, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper. “What do you want from me?”

A soft click of her tongue and two cloaked figures materialized from the shadows. 

Lorenz had seen Ignatz wear Fodlan assassin armor before and it was vastly different from the armor these assassins wore. While the armor in Fodlan was fortified with lightweight steel in the shoulders and legs, Almyran assassin armor was more suited to stealth and invisibility. Dark hooded robes with dark wraps around their faces, leaving only their eyes exposed. They didn't wear shoes so much as padded footwraps, providing the barest minimum required to protect their feet and give them a range of movement. Latched to their waist was a single crescent moon sheath that housed a simple blade. The very same that was being pressed into his thigh right now. Tearing a small slit into the fabric of his trousers. Also of immediate note was the height of the assailants. Lorenz couldn't be entirely sure due to the covered nature of their faces, but based on the gawky way they held themselves, they had to be around 16 or 17.

“To think the _Shahzadeh_ would so blatantly show himself here with his delicate little consort.” She whispered, her Fodlan heavily accented. “How arrogant of him, to leave you here all alone, helpless.”

Lorenz could feel his hands shaking, a bead of sweat travelling down the back of his neck in his struggle to remain motionless.

"He will look for you and you will call him over. Nice and sweetly" She hummed. "We'll kill him. And you will be free to go back to the land you came from."

_Claude... they're after Claude! I have to warn him somehow, I have to--_

Wait… _did _he have to do anything? They said they would let him go after they killed the prince and it was his mission to see to his death anyway for the sake of Fodlan. Why not get it over with now and go back home sooner? At least in this way, he would be blameless in his death.

After all this country wasn't his responsibility.

"Lorenz?" His voice called out.

Lorenz's eyes open slowly, not even realizing he had closed them. Claude was standing some distance away. His expression going from inquisitive to deeply as he started looking around. One gloved hand was clenched at his side, but in the other…

It appeared to be some kind of hat. A square scarf of white held together with a circle of braided rope in the center where it was most likely fitted onto someone’s head. It was painfully plain, but light looking, probably made from some breathable cotton, perfect for keeping the sun off of someone’s face and off the back of their neck.

The sight of it made Lorenz’s heart _ache_. So that’s where he had gone off to. How very charming of him, to stick to his promise of getting Lorenz a hat. He had seen where his father had come from, saying that Claude was a master tactician. But in the short day that he had gotten to know him, he had also seen a kindness, a secret vulnerability, a dangerous charisma to him that made him quite likeable. Like the country of Almyra itself, he was so very different and much more dangerous than he initially thought. Someone with layers just begging to be peeled back.

There was a part of him, small though it may be, that was enticed to do just that. To be privy to the man's secrets and to share his own in turn. Which may have been the most frightening thought of all, far more terrifying than the knife pressed into his thigh.

Suddenly a thought struck him through his fond haze, the girl behind him could speak Fodlan. _Why would a simple assassin even bother to learn Fodlan, unless she had someone to teach her? A certain Prince perhaps..._

The soft floaty feeling in his chest was suddenly dropped like a lead weight in his stomach and in its place was an anger that set his blood boiling. _Another test is it Claude?_

"Call for him." The woman demanded.

He gritted his teeth together, shifting his left hand slightly behind his back, palm facing her left side. She twitched slightly, probably tracking the movement with her eyes but after a few beats of silence she relaxed somewhat, thinking there was nothing to worry about with an empty hand.

His anger had served to remind him that he was no one’s ‘delicate consort.’ He was Lorenz Hellman Gloucester and he was trained for this.

He called upon the magic in his core, pushing the heat down his arm and into his hand. But instead of letting it build to its fullest potential, he let it flicker immediately. If her face was similarly covered as her companions’ then her downward vision was sure to be hampered somewhat by the cloth over her mouth and nose. She’d notice, certainly, but not quickly enough to cut him open should his assumption of her allegiance prove wrong.

The flames caught on the cotton fibers and she probably felt it before she saw it. He heard her let out a panicked scream, more panicked than it ought to have been. Then her presence reeled back as he felt the dagger pull away from his thigh and Claude’s head jerked their way. His eyes wide as he bolted towards them, reaching a hand to his belt.

_Still keeping the act up, are you? _Lorenz thought bitterly as he ducked low and rushed forward.

The other two assassins looked to one another in panicked confusion when their leader screamed. Their words rushed out in hurried Almyran. The one on the left, took a fighting stance with his fists readied up.

But Lorenz could feel his left hand aching, much like the day old sunburn on his face. But it was perfectly fine, he had more than one way to defend himself.

For as it turned out, his memory of Byleth’s infallible wisdom served as a reminder that the weekend spent at that seminar and the subsequent biweekly practice was not the waste he initially thought it was. _Even though you are gone, thank you Professor._

Lorenz stopped in his tracks, taking a half step back to get into a fighting stance as the assassin surged forward to hook a punch at the side of his head. Lorenz crouched his head and blocked the attack with his left forearm, knocking the arm back. He planted his left foot forward and delivered a fast jab right at the unguarded center of the man’s chest, aiming right above his solar plexus.

It wasn’t a strong blow, Lorenz lacked the arm muscles to deliver anything that could knock someone back completely. But the surprise and speed of the attack was all that was needed to make the smaller young man reel back. Just enough for Lorenz to follow through by hooking the extended right hand at the junction between neck and shoulder and striking him in the stomach with his bony left knee. He was aiming lower, but it was too rushed for him to aim properly. Either way, it served the intended purpose.

With the wind knocked out of him, the younger man crumpled to the ground, clutching his middle. Lorenz stepped back, skirting around his prone form before sending a glare at the remaining assassin. He noted with amusement that the other boy just backed away, his hands raised, palms forward, in surrender.

Besides, Claude had appeared on the scene, staring at Lorenz with an utterly dumbstruck expression. His mouth open, green eyes wide, brows arched to his hairline. He looked like the whole world just turned on its head. It was an expression Lorenz didn’t know he wanted to see on the Prince’s face until this very moment. He wanted to press a mouth under his chin and chide him like his mother used to. _Keep standing there with your mouth open and insects will fly in._

But alas, he needed to sell this a little longer. “Quickly Prince Claude, we need to leave.” Lorenz whispered, purposely pitching his voice to make it sound like he was scared. “These assassins are after your life.”

“Huh. uh... oh!” Claude said, slowly coming back to himself as Lorenz grabbed him by the crook of his elbow. Lorenz quickly grabbed the small bag that held his acquired candle and gave a slight private smile as he pulled Claude with him. His mother’s voice echoing like a reminder in his head.

_My rose, don’t let him pluck your thorns._

————

They had maybe gone about several meters, darting between the washed out stone houses, and narrow alleyways. The sky above having gone dark and young men with torches were rushing from bronze street lamp to bronze street lamp, lighting the oil within to light the streets with their warm glow. After passing a tilted street sign that Lorenz could not read, Lorenz realized this whole thing was a pointless endeavor as he had no idea where he was going. 

Claude chose that moment finally gather up enough of his mental capacities to tease Lorenz over it. “Were you hoping to lose our assassins by also getting lost?” Claude commented with a smirk and Lorenz was tempted to deck him. “That’s quite the brilliant tactic Ser Lorenz.”

“You know very well that we were never in any real danger!” Lorenz hissed stopping his fast paced gait to level a glare at him, dropping Claude's arm in the process "That was quite the test my Prince, but if that shadow of yours ripped a hole in my riding trousers, I best be getting new ones!"

Claude's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh don't be daft." Lorenz rolled his eyes with a scoff. "That woman was clearly working for you. Her and her two goons. Her Fodlan was near perfect!"

"Her? And two--" Claude suddenly stopped, brow lifting with recognition. "Oh Flames alight..." He groaned reaching up to massage his brow. Like he was fending off the beginnings of a headache. "Simin." he sighed out his hand sliding over his mouth.

"So you _do_ know her?"

"I _know_ her yes, but I didn't--!" Claude seemed to be floundering all of a sudden under Lorenz's glare. "Look, I've been known to play tricks on people, but I would never, _intentionally_, make someone feel unsafe. I would never…" he trailed off before taking a deep breath and saying his next words like they were being forced out of him under extreme duress. "I would never want to make _you_ feel unsafe in any way."

Why Claude cared about what Lorenz thought of him, Lorenz would never know. But he seemed genuine in his plea for Lorenz believe him. And Lorenz did have to admit that, since coming here, he never felt like his life was endangered in any way outside of Claude's first warning as Sassan. The Prince always having someone to escort him from place to place. Making certain he was never caught anywhere alone.

"Fine" Lorenz huffed running a nervous hand through his hair. "Against my better judgement, I believe what you are telling me."

Claude gave him an open, relieved smile that absolutely did _not _melt Lorenz heart. Suddenly remembering what was in his hand, Claude pulled out Lorenz's hat and reached up to affix it onto his head. He then trailed his hands back, smoothing the white cotton down with a careful brush of his fingers. He seemed pleased by the fit, his gaze soft. The firelight from the lamps were kind to him, tracing along the shape of his lips, the definition in his jaw, and revealing the flicker of yellow in his green eyes.

_Too close! _Lorenz thought in alarm.

"But you need to get a better handle on your people if they are acting outside of your wishes, there is clearly a lack of communication here." Lorenz said, jerking his head away from Claude's hands and giving them a wide berth. 

"...Right." Claude muttered lowering his hands to his side. A scuffed sound against stone had him jerking his head down the street they had just come from. It was cloaked in darkness save for the flickering light of the street lamps. Throwing warm golden light and harsh shadows down small alcoves and in between the grooves of the cobblestones. But there was something sinister about it, a presence that Claude couldn't actually see but was fully aware was there. 

"My apologies Lorenz, it will never happen _again_." He declared loudly, his eyes narrowed as he shifted to stand in front of Lorenz. 

The taller male tried to follow his gaze to see if he could spot her, but couldn't see anyone waiting in the shadows. It was most unsettling, this Simin girl was clearly very good at her job.

A few seconds of silence went by with Claude not moving his eyes and Lorenz being too nervous to breathe. But then suddenly Lorenz heard a shift, so silent that it may as well have been the wind and a specter broke away from the shadows to run up the length of a small townhouse. Once she reached the top she flipped gracefully over the roof, her footsteps padding away. Claude immediately relaxed, turning back to Lorenz.

“So where did a sheltered noble like you learn to fight like that?” He asked with an easy smile as if that moment didn't just happen. "Gotta say, that's quite the turn-on." He whispered low, wagging his eyebrow.

Lorenz rolled his eyes to disguise his blushing face. He really needed to stop taking everything Claude said at face value. He was probably just teasing him to lighten the mood.

"I merely picked up a few moves from my teacher who was an ex mercenary." Lorenz said trying to sound modest even as he was near bursting with a need to brag. "Honestly I was far from the best student at it. But considering it was outside my area of expertise, I was an astute learner."

"I'm amazed they let an ex mercenary teach at some hoity toity prep school." Claude said, his tone tinged with awe. "That must have been something."

Lorenz couldn't help but chuckle. "I once thought that way, that he was perhaps the least qualified person to teach us." He sighed running a hand through his hair. "But I’ve never been more wrong, his life lessons have proven invaluable in making me who I am today. I miss him terribly." Lorenz murmured sadly.

"Well... it's not like you'll never see him again." Claude pointed out, his tone carefree and light with his easy smile. "Once this whole mess is dealt with, I'm sure you can go back to Fodlan and pay him a visit."

Lorenz felt his throat tighten, his breath caught on a sharp inhale as if he had been stabbed. The memory came to him, unbidden.

_A black shadow had wrapped itself around Byleth's person, trapping him in place. Lorenz pushed Rosemary faster through the brush, urging himself to be there to save the man who had given him so much._

_"Now the time has come to unleash the forbidden spell of Zahras upon our enemies!"_

_"Professor!" Lorenz called out his voice breaking with fear as he broke out into the clearing. Rosemary came to a sudden halt, spooked by the shadows flickering around the edge of the ruins like black fire. Lorenz couldn't fault her for being frightened, choosing instead to dismount and charge forward on foot, a fire spell ready in his hands._

_Whatever magic held his professor captive, was ancient and powerful. It pushed at Lorenz's head from all sides like a throbbing headache the closer he got to the pulsing wall of shadows._

_Byleth whirled around to face him, his stony expression giving way to slight fear. Not for himself, but for his student._

_"Lorenz no! Stay back!" He shouted over the roar in Lorenz's ears. An order Lorenz refused to abide._

_But it was all for naught as the shadows swept past Byleth blocking him from Lorenz's view. In the next instant, the darkness was gone, and his professor with it. All that remained was Tomas, or the man that had donned his identity, walking to the center of the empty ruins with a twisted smile on his face. Lorenz fell to his knees, eyes wide with the heat of unshed tears pricking at corners. _

_"No..." Was all he could utter as the fire spell dissipated in his hands. He was too late._

"That," Lorenz shuddered in on himself, wrapping his arms loosely around his middle. "Is quite impossible I'm afraid."

Claude looked startled by the admission, looking conflicted as he lifted a hand, hovering over Lorenz's shoulder before he huffed a silent snort and pulled it back. It seemed he decided that the time for talking was now over and they spent the rest of the trip to the stables in silence.

\------

Lorenz shouldn't have been too surprised that a shadow suddenly appeared at his side the very second Claude parted from him to retrieve Mahin. But his heart leapt into his throat all the same when the female assassin, notably shorter than him and dressed similarly in all black, melted out of the shadows and started speaking. Her tone as sharp as steel and just as cold.

"Just so you are aware, I'm not apologizing."

Lorenz clenched at his racing heart and the woman turned a glare at him. The dim lamp light highlighting the red in her rust colored eyes.

"I still don't trust you outsider, and the second I catch any intent on your part to do harm to the _Shahzadeh,_ I will carve out your insides and leave your corpse to hang from the walls of your western stronghold."

_Well... isn't she just a delight?_ Lorenz thought turning his gaze forward. He deemed it wise perhaps to not call attention to their exchange. Claude had enough to worry about without having to discipline his overprotective shadow. 

"Your mistrust is noted and your warning acknowledged." He said, somehow finding his voice despite his dry throat.

She was about to shift back into the shadows, but Lorenz cleared his throat, hoping to catch her attention before she did.

"Is your underling ok?" Lorenz asked feeling slightly bad about that now they he knew they weren't just a cog in Claude's scheme. "And your side, I didn't burn you did I?"

She didn't respond right away and, in keeping his eyes forward, he had no idea what sort of expression she was making. When she did finally answer, her voice was soft and delicate like a wind chime.

"I've had worse."

Lorenz jerked his head towards her, but she was already gone. As if she was never there to begin with.

Claude had made his way over to where Lorenz was standing "Ok Lorenz ready to--" Claude paused taking in the expression on Lorenz's face. "What's wrong? Was it Simin again?" He asked with narrowed eyes.

He considered lying, but was too exhausted to even try. "Yes, but it's quite alright. She was just giving me the shovel talk." Lorenz sighed out through his nose. He somehow felt ten years older.

"Ah sorry about that. She can be a bit intense."

"Reminds me of someone else I know." Lorenz commented, thinking of a certain leering specter at his empress' side back home. "Your subordinates are quite loyal to you. It says something good about your character. Does she know?"

"Know?" Claude echoed.

Lorenz raised a single brow.

"Oh! No, I figured the less people in on my plan the better chance I'd have at finding the killer."

"Is that truly wise, not informing your…" Actually that posed the question, what were Darius and Simin to him? "friends?" He settled with.

"Ha. That's a good one." Claude barked out a laugh, sounding bitter.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I don't have friends." Claude smiled absently, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Simin and Darius only put up with me because they are indebted to Maman. Same with Nader, but through Baba. Any friends I once had as a kid tried to kill me and I've been keeping everyone at arm's length ever since."

That was… quite sad. What kind of society was this that they would do harm to a child, just for being born into the world. "You haven't kept me at arm's length." He pointed out lightly.

Claude's smile fell at that and for a moment he looked terrified, defensive, like a cornered animal. But it was gone just as quickly as he slipped back on the mask of an easy carefree smile. "Enough chatter, let's head back, I'm starving." Claude said, climbing onto Mahin's back.

Lorenz followed suit, not even bothering to waste time by placing his hands on the Prince's shoulders like before, instead wrapping them loosely around his waist. Claude tensed slightly his head shifting slightly to glance back at him. But he quickly relaxed and clicked his tongue once more as they took off into the sky.

If Lorenz had thought the scenery was beautiful during the day, it didn't compare to how the trip looked under the milky light of the moon. The yellow flowers, like a lady's delicate fingers, waved in the breeze, the snowy cap on the Alborz mountain glowed, reflecting the waxing moon's light. Even the sand in the desert seemed ethereal, basked in an otherworldly bluish glow. Then there was the stars, Lorenz could count every single one as the blinked into being, free of the smog that seemed to cloud the Leicester territory. The last time he saw the sky this clear was back at the academy, on the stone bridge that stretched before the Monastery. It was chilled, the wind whipping at his hair, but Lorenz had foolishly thought there would never be a sight more beautiful.

How wrong he was.

Of course tying it all together was Mahin herself, donning her namesake with well earned pride. Her silvery scales were shining just as brightly as the moon above taking on a pearl like sheen. With great care Lorenz reached past Claude to pat the back of her neck and outside of a sharp glance with her yellow eyes, she didn't seem repulsed by the touch.

"You mentioned before that it wasn't possible for you to see your teacher again." Claude said carefully, his voice low as it rumbled where Lorenz's chest was pressed to his back. "You don't have to tell me what happened, but I would like to know… does it get any easier? Losing that person and the guidance that came with them."

Lorenz swallowed placing his arm back on Claude's waist. He didn't want to talk about this, it was too personal, too raw. Even after two years all he could think about was how he was _right there. _If only he could have been there a few minutes sooner…

_Then we may have both been lost._

But he could tell Claude needed this and if anyone could understand this pain, dulled as it was, it was Claude. "It… lessens a little. Day by day." Lorenz admitted feeling so emotionally drained. "But I always think about him, what he would do if he were here," guilt stabbed at him, twisting in deeper like a knife in his gut, "what he would say about the choices I've made."

Lorenz then took a deep shuddering breath. "But life goes on, it doesn't stop just because he's gone. All I can do is take what he's taught me and use it to the fullest going forward."

Claude relaxed slightly under his hands. "Yeah, you're right..." He sighed out, the sound lost to the roar of the wind.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOSH! It's been too long.  
I wish I had a better excuse but Pokemon had me by the childhood and I was dealing with job things. Updates going forward might be a little slow, I'm really sorry about that! I'll do my best to make sure they are quality.
> 
> Special thanks to Melika for translations (I'm sorry I'm a pain!), Cali for betaing (Ditto), KEY! you awesome cheerleader you!
> 
> And of course, to readers like YOU!  
THANK YOU!

Compared to the night before, dinner was a more subdued affair. A fact that Lorenz was grateful for. The physical and emotional toll this day had taken on him was enough for several lifetimes. Something he and Claude seemed to be in clear agreement on as they dragged their feet from the Wyvern Eyrie to the Great Hall.

Granted, 'subdued' in Almyra was still pretty unruly, the members of Arash's court were still loudly talking over one another in their language and the meal was still served to them in an informal family style. But thankfully, there were a lot less people in attendance so it didn't feel nearly as overwhelming.

Lorenz was promptly reintroduced to a few members of King Arash's court. Which was appreciated since Lorenz could not, for the life of him, recall a single name from the night before. He did however notice that Arash's brother, Bahadur, was absent from the table, him and his son Gaspar.

"It would seem someone is missing, do they already despise me that much?" Lorenz asked offhandedly.

Claude visibly tensed beside him and when Lorenz turned to him, there was a notable conflicted expression on his face. "...While we were out father sent Amu west to deal with… a problem," Claude said softly, finding his saucer of Mey especially interesting.

"A 'problem?'" 

Claude nodded jerkily. "Some Fodlan soldiers were caught encroaching onto our side of the Throat… knowing those two, it might escalate into a fight." 

"...Ah…"Lorenz trailed off, turning away to hide his expression behind his hair. 'Problems' seemed to be a code word for 'a skirmish with Fodlan soldiers along the border.' They weren't as frequent as they used to be, Almyra and the Alliance only _just _maintaining an uneasy peace. A peace that held, so long as no one stepped over that invisible line.

But the mistrust was still there, the Lords of the Roundtable spending a substantial amount of money to fortify the Locket and keep soldiers stationed at the base. Meanwhile on the Almyran side, soldiers stood guard at similar military bases, no doubt keeping an eye on the border and waiting for orders to start a full scale invasion.

Lorenz pressed his tongue to his cheek, he hated the thought of his fellow countrymen dying at the hands of a battle axe while he was here, eating pastries and buying candles.

Lorenz attempted to cover up his bitter feelings by shifting topics, engaging in a conversation with the King's treasurer. He discussed with him the pros and cons of constructing more secure land routes to make trade in the capital more attractive. Despite the man's stilted speech, Lorenz managed to get by enough to make his points clear, drawing a map on the table with his finger based on the bird's eye view he got from Claude's wyvern.

"And it might be beneficial to build an outpost here. Since the trip North is so long it would be good for trade caravans to have a secure place to stay."

The man nodded absently, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. Lorenz wasn't sure if he picked up on all of the words said but after a moment his eyes went bright with understanding and he smacked Lorenz hard on the back, laughing. He then waved a servant to pour more Mey into Lorenz’s cup before turning to say something to King Arash in Almyran.

Lorenz coughed at the force of the blow giving a reluctant smile, the Treasurer shaking his whole body by his shoulders and in his peripheral vision, Claude was hiding a smile in his cup. He looked almost proud.

"Agha-Bahman has been telling father that for months." Claude murmured low in his ear. "Good call, you are now his favorite person."

Lorenz flinched at the warm breath brushing against his ear and when Claude pulled away Lorenz felt a chill in its place. _It must be colder here than I thought_. Lorenz thought taking a distracted sip of his drink and blaming the warmth in his face on the alcohol.

Speaking of, now that he was prepared for the strong punch, Lorenz could detect a hint of spices flavoring the wine; cardamom, and cinnamon. He licked the stray droplets off his lips with a pleased hum.

"By the way, before I forget..." Claude said, quickly averting his eyes when Lorenz glanced up at him. He looked a little flushed too, his tanned skin turning darker around his cheeks and nose. "I'm not going to be around for the next couple of days to a week."

"A week?" Lorenz asked, startled. "Where are you going?"

"West," Claude said vaguely before knocking the cup back.

"West…" Lorenz echoed, voice hollow like a gourd with the seeds scooped out, before his tone bristled with anger. "You mean to the Throat."

Claude nodded absently before catching the expression on Lorenz's face. "Okay first off, it's not for what you think--"

"I don't think anything," Lorenz said frostily, going back to his food even though it tasted bitter in his mouth. "I wish you a safe return."

"I'm not going to fight them," Claude explained, leaning forward in his seat to maintain eye contact. "I'm going to try and stop the fighting before the damage becomes irreversible."

_Isn't it already? _Lorenz thought, pressing his lips in a thin line. _How much blood has been spilled on the desert sand? Theirs and ours. How much will be spilled in the aftermath?_

"Lorenz--"

Lorenz got up from his seat, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I wish you a safe return my _Shahzadeh_." He snipped angrily before bowing to the King. "Excuse me King Arash, may I request leave from dinner?"

Arash gazed up at Lorenz with his one good eye before shifting it down to Claude. He then sighed and waved him off dismissively. “You may take your leave.”

“I thank you.”

Jazmin appeared quietly at his side to escort him. Stepping forward to give Claude and Arash a polite bow of her own before trailing after Lorenz as he marched gracefully down the length of the dining table and towards the exit.

"Lorenz wa--!" Claude called after him.

Lorenz refused to look back as he slammed the door behind him.

\------Claude------

Claude let out a frustrated sigh, he could practically feel everyone's stares on him, his father's gaze burning especially hot.

"If you want to say something, say it," he snapped.

"I've said my piece yesterday," Arash commented. "But I suppose there are worse first dates." He chuckled fondly.

"Everything was going fine until you decided to send Amu west."

"What would you have me do son, tell Bahadur to offer them flowers? I'm sure that conversation would go over well."

"You're King aren't you? Tell him to do as you say and if he doesn't like it, he can eat shit."

“Claude,” Arash scolded, glaring down at him in warning.

Claude folded his arms over his chest stubbornly but didn’t argue beyond that. He knew well enough to be silent and listen when his father’s patience ran thin.

"Being a King doesn't make me a dictator, I cannot forcibly bend the will of others to my own. Bahadur is a man with strong opinions and if we are to keep the peace between us, we must both be willing to bend."

"From where I'm looking, you seem to be the only one bending." Claude muttered under his breath.

"Of course it would seem that way because you are a whelp who is barely two decades old." Arash chuckled with a shake of his head. "He may be many things, but Bahadur is still your Amu and a man who puts his country and people first. You’d do well to learn a little from his example when you head west tomorrow morning."

Claude gave a strained smile. "I'll be on my best behavior, Baba."

"...That smile does nothing to assure me," Arash commented, his expression grim.

\------

It was a lovely night for a walk in the gardens.

Shame that Lorenz was so cross with him, he would have enjoyed this. Maybe the trip would have even drummed up some long forgotten memories…

Claude shook his head to clear his thoughts, brow furrowed. He couldn't afford to think that way, not now, not ever. He tried to tell himself that it was a waste of time. That he would never be able to uncover the old traces of Lorenz beneath the veneer of Gloucester that his father shellacked onto him. But he couldn't help himself, especially when Lorenz just wore his emotions on his sleeve. The sadness and vulnerability over his teacher's death right there for anyone to see. That open honesty would only serve to get them both killed if Claude wasn't careful.

He needed to keep his wits about him for both of their sakes and appear unflappable going forward if he was to one day be Almyra's King.

"_Shahzadeh_, you sent for me," a voice spoke, silent as the wind through the trees.

_Speaking of,_ Claude thought, schooling his face into a neutral expression.

"Simin," Claude said, considering the single yellow rose before him. It had just barely opened spreading it's fragrant scent into the night air. He lightly brushed the pad of his thumb against the waxy petals. "I would like an explanation over your actions in Amastris."

The answering silence made Claude wonder if maybe she _wasn’t _here and he was still alone in the garden. Then he heard a slight rustle of fabric before Simin spoke again.

"I deemed it wise to test if your future husband was trustworthy."

"Oh did you now?" Claude asked with a tight smile, turning to face her. "And you couldn't trust my judgement on the matter because...?" He trailed off with a raised brow.

"I fear your judgement is fatally biased _Shahzadeh_," Simin responded back without missing a beat. Her head tilted slightly, her gaze sharp in the light of the moon.

Claude felt her words hit like a stab to the gut, but he somehow suppressed his knee jerk reaction to outright deny it. It would do him no good to get so defensive and such an action would only seal his fate.

"Your concern is appreciated but unnecessary," he said, trying to make himself sound much more collected than he felt. He turned back to the flower, sliding his hand down to snap the stem from the rest of the bush. "I have everything well in hand for the time being. But I'll let you know if something changes, trust me."

There was a long silence in response and when Claude was just about to turn to see if she was still there, she answered. "Trust can be difficult to give when it is not given." Her voice melting from its usual icy tone. If Claude didn't know any better she almost sounded like she was about to cry.

Claude let out a sigh. "Si--"

"Claude," she interrupted sharply, the ice in her voice making a comeback as Claude's jaw click shut.

The fact that she was using Claude instead of _Shahzadeh _meant that this was not Simin his Spymaster talking. This was Simin, the thin child Maman brought home, swaddled in a royal cloak with bruises like manacles around her wrists and ankles. The child who glared at him for staring at her a second too long and didn't care if he was a prince; she would kill him if he took another step closer.

Claude mentally braced himself for whatever blow was about to be delivered.

"When we were younger, I once asked if you would consider marrying me. You told me you couldn't because you were already betrothed to someone else, do you remember?"

_Fuck, why is she bringing **that** up now!?_

"I don't," he lied around his suddenly dry throat, slowly spinning the plucked flower stem in his hand like it was one of his arrows. "But I can't be expected to remember conversations from so long ago." He said, forcibly casual. "But it does sound like something I might have said to get you to back off."

"...Right." She sighed sounding disappointed. "Then forget I said anything _Shahzadeh_, sleep well."

When Claude turned around, she was gone and he was left in the garden cursing himself in his head. Just in case the shadow still lingered.

\--------Lorenz------

His dreams that night were plagued with nightmares, the memory of his teacher being pulled by tendrils of shadow, a shadow with a curved knife carving into his chest pierce his heart, thorny vines digging into his skin, tearing at him every time he struggled to pull free.

The last twisted image that graced him was an out-of-body vision of himself, coughing up white daisies onto the desert sand and a voice whispering in his ear that sounded eerily like his own.

_How long are you going to pretend to not know?_

\------

Lorenz shot up from bed, gasping for air and clutching at his chest. His form shaking as he closed his eyes and tried to regulate his breathing back to normal. _In, out, in, out._

When he was finally calmed enough, he took in his immediate surroundings. Dawn had barely peeked over the horizon, the sky lit in a bluish glow but in its faint light, Lorenz could see there were two new items waiting on his desk.

Lorenz pulled back the covers and padded over, regarding the items with skepticism. The first was a glass vase containing a single yellow flower, an Almyran rose. 

Claude had been correct when he said that their roses were not as pretty, their petals slightly waxy in feel and more suited to the harsh desert climate. They were certainly nothing like the soft, elaborate Gloucester Roses that graced his family’s garden. 

When his father and mother were married, the roses of both families were crossbred together to symbolize the union, his father's purple with his mother's red. But the breeding process to create that beautiful flower took something away from both, the Gloucester Rose was a flower of immense beauty but no fragrance to call its own. Hence why it was never used for rose blend teas.

The scent of this flower however, Lorenz thought as he took a delicate whiff, was _divine._ Lorenz could almost instantly smell it from his bed, the fragrance of it perfuming the whole room. It was a strong scent, but not so much as to be overpowering. It was just enough to tickle his nose and surround him in the scent.

Folded under the vase was a note.

_I know I promised to show you the gardens. But you'll have to settle for this small taste for now. Make sure you have someone with you when you go out. Either Jazmin or Nader. Stay safe._

_Also I'm sorry for last night. We'll talk when I get back. -C_

A tender warmth bloomed in his chest but he quickly tamped it down as he was reminded, once more, where the prince was coming back from. He crumpled the note in his hand and burned it to ash, letting the dust scatter at his feet.

He then turned his attention to the second item on the desk, the one that surprised Lorenz with it presence. In the low light, the black lacquer gleamed like a void, threatening to pull Lorenz in and absorb all the light from existence.

The Alliance Safety Box.

\------

After fiddling with the box for a long stretch of time, Lorenz decided ultimately to give up for now. He wouldn't put it past Claude to give him a red herring to keep him busy. It's contents probably weren't even that important.

At least that was what he tried to tell himself as he fiddled with it once more with a frustrated huff.

Eventually he placed the box back, growing weary of that particular puzzle, and turned to his journal. It had been a long time since he was so harshly reminded of his Professor's disappearance, time having lessened the ache to more of a dull throb at the back of his mind. But now that it was back in full force, the nightmare of that day fresh in his mind, it was as good a time as any to look at the problem with fresh eyes.

Tucked inside a makeshift pocket in the journal's front cover, formed from where the glue lost its adhesion to the stiff backing, Lorenz kept secrets that he did not want anyone, even his own father, to find. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and spread it open on the desk before him, lighting a candle to give him better light.

After graduation, he returned to the ruins where it happened and took some etchings of the symbols on the stone, determined to solve the mystery of the spell used to possibly reverse it. He knew that he was tapping into forbidden knowledge and there would be consequences should the Church of Seiros find out, but he stopped caring when searching through legitimate sources proved fruitless.

Notes were written around the edges, matching symbols discovered in the ruins of the Red Canyon. Lorenz had tried to puzzle out what it meant and what sort of magic had been used but was coming up empty handed. All he did know for certain is that whatever magic was involved had a similar feeling to it as when he wielded Thyrsus, as if the magic within was alive with a mind of its own.

_Living magic. _Lorenz thought brushing his lip with his thumb. _Was such a thing possible? In order for such magic to be… it would have to have been made from human sacrifice._

He thought of Remire Village and the horror he witnessed there. A shudder ran down his spine at the implications.

Perhaps this is what Hubert had warned him about, when he had cornered the empress's attendant in the library one evening.

_"You know something!" Lorenz accused, slamming a hand on the table next to his arm "I pray tell me what you know! If it can bring the professor back--!"_

_"Be quiet," the shadow hissed._

_Hubert had turned to him, a mint green eye narrowed in a glare. He didn't look like a man seizing control of the conversation, he looked more like a cornered animal and it frightened Lorenz enough to keep him silent._

_Hubert then turned his gaze to glance around the library, checking for any eavesdroppers, but they were alone._

_"There are things," Hubert said slowly, his expression guarded and his voice low enough to be a whisper. As if someone **was** listening in. "That I can't speak of... for many reasons. Not just with you, but with anyone."_

_"Even Edelgard."_

_"Especially Edelgard," he said. "I am not a man prone to begging but please, I beg of you, do not ask me to divulge this forbidden knowledge to you."_

_Forbidden knowledge indeed, _Lorenz thought, folding up the paper once more, stuffing it back into the journal. 

He pushed it from his mind as the sun rose higher in the sky. Lorenz could hear the sounds of the palace's staff waking up and going about their morning chores. Shortly after, Jazmin knocked on his door once before letting herself in with a cart carrying his breakfast and a smaller samovar for tea. She seemed surprised to see him awake.

"Good morning Agha-Gloucester." She bowed, going about making the tea.

"Good morning Jazmin… or wait, is it more formal to say agha-"

Jazmin laughed, holding up a hand. "Agha is male in meaning," she explained. "For example you are Agha-Gloucester, or perhaps _Khanzadeh _would be more appropriate." She hummed tilting her cheek into her hand in contemplation. "You are the son of a noble back home yes?"

Lorenz nodded.

"I would be Jazmin-jaan, if you like, more familiar. Court ladies would be Khanoom."

Lorenz scrambled for his journal to write that down. Asking Jazmin to repeat the words and repeating them back to her to make sure he said the titles correctly.

"You need not worry so much, outside of court matters with the satraps, _Shahzadeh _cares not for formalities."

"He might not care, but I do." Lorenz scoffed scratching out a quick note in the margins. "My status back home meant that I had to conduct myself a certain way, not just in front of proper company, but in all aspects. The same should apply here. I represent my country after all."

Jazmin let out a heavy exhale through her nose. "You were judged poorly long before you arrived."

Lorenz paused in his writing. "Are you saying my efforts are worthless?"

"I'm saying," Jazmin smiled mysteriously, pouring him a cup of tea, "you have to climb a mountain from the bottom of a very deep hole. I do not envy your position _Khanzadeh_."

"I figured as much," Lorenz grumbled accepting the cup and taking a careful sip. "Any suggestions on where to start?"

"That depends," she commented. "Do you fight well?" 

\------

The training ground was a large outdoor arena located on the leftmost edge of the palace grounds. It had an almost colosseum feel to it, with a seating area wrapped around the flat dirt field in a semicircle. At the top of the seating area, Lorenz could see a boxed-in area where the King and other important nobles most likely sat.

Opposite the seating area was a large wall with two sets of wooden doors that probably led out into the city and a large stable where Lorenz could see a few horses peeking their heads out.

It was still early, so there was only a group of men, city guards most likely, running drills with Nader observing the training with his arms folded over his chest. His eyes made contact with Lorenz's from across the way and, even from this distance, Lorenz could feel the contempt radiating off of him as he jerked his head to the side with a snort.

Lorenz scoffed and jerked his head away as he was led by Jazmin to where they kept the weapons and other equipment used for training. Standing guard by the doorway was a rather large and imposing Quartermaster, at least that was who Lorenz assumed the man was. If the keys at his belt were any indication, no one would gain access to the weapons within without his say so.

Also by the door, Lorenz noticed two teenage boys with the exact same body height and similar faces. _Twins perhaps? _Lorenz thought as he and Jazmin approached closer. Jazmin rested a hand on his chest and pushed him back a step. When he glanced down, she pressed a hand to her chest and nodded to the Quartermaster, silently urging him to let her do the talking.

_Oh very well. I’ll leave it to you then._ He nodded, waiting with his back resting against the high wall and silently observing the twins talking to the Quartermaster.

The only real difference between them was their hair style. Mostly a mess of pushed back, wind swept waves save for one solitary braid that was pinned to the side of their head just above their ears, albeit on different sides. 

The one that had his braid pinned to the left side was doing the talking. His hands pressed together in a pleading gesture. The one who had his braid pinned on the right side was hanging back behind him, with a sulk on his face. His arms folded firmly over his chest and his leg twitching, agitated.

"_Bebakhshid, Agha*,"_ Jazmin interrupted.

All three of them turned as she approached and the two boys' froze, their eyes wide like a pair of caught rabbits.

"_Aghaye-Gloucester mikhaiyad aamuzesh koneh, nizeh nadari**?_"

While Jazmin and the Quartermaster started conversing back and forth in Almyran. The twins were staring at Lorenz their mouths slightly agape. Lorenz shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny. He wasn’t surprised that he was being stared at. It seemed to be a common thing for everyone to stare at Lorenz like he had a tail and horns. But it was still very rude and unsettling. So rather than quietly accept it, he stood to his full height and made his way over to them with confident sure steps.

The twin boys scrambled back. The one with the left braid jumping back to stand behind his brother and push him forward. Lorenz stopped, letting out a scoff.

"It's rude to stare you know," he scolded with a hand on his hip.

The boys' brows crumpled in confusion at being addressed, before turning to one another and speaking in Almyran.

"_Daare ba ma harf mizaneh?^_" the one with the right braid said gruffly, his tone had a slight lift to indicate a question.

"_Shaayad az dar mourdeh di-ruz naaraahatshod. Baayad mazaarat bedim?^^_" the one with the left braid responded, glancing hesitantly at Lorenz over his brother’s shoulder.

"Do you not speak Fodlan?" Lorenz asked before realizing how futile of a question that was. He had gotten used to someone being there to translate or speaking to those who were somewhat fluent. It hadn’t even occurred to him that others couldn't understand at all. He shifted his gaze to Jazmin for help but she was still deep in conversation with the equipment guard, her voice becoming heated with the beginnings of an argumentative tone. 

_Very well, seems I'm on my own._

He waited until both boys finished their private conversation and were able to give him his full attention before he lifted a single hand, pressing his fingertips to his lips and tilting his hand back towards them with a brow raised in question. _Do you speak?_ he tried to convey.

The one with the left braid's eyes widened in understanding, dropping the side of his fist into an open palm. He then pointed to himself and pinched the air with his index finger and thumb. _A little._ He then pointed to his twin with his thumb and shook his head. _Not at all._

Lorenz smiled in relief, tapping an index finger to his temple twice and pointing to the left twin. _You're a smart one._

The boy blinked but quickly caught on. He gave a bright smile while shyly rubbing the back of his neck. It was oddly endearing. His twin rolled his eyes at him and muttered something under his breath in Almyran. The left twin's eyes darted toward his brother and he, childishly, kicked some dirt at him with his tongue sticking out between his grinning teeth.

"Lorenz Gloucester," Lorenz interrupted before they could break out into a fight. He pressed a hand to his chest and bowed before motioning his hand toward them.

"Mehr." The one with the left braid grinned, hand on his own chest, giving a slight bow eyes closed. “_Khanzadeh_.”

"Mahyar," the other said gruffly. His brother snapped something at him and the boy made a face like he tasted something sour before he reluctantly bowed as well. “_Khanzadeh,_” he rushed out quickly.

Lorenz looked them over. Their clothing was very simplistic, trousers and tunics outfitted with leather armor on their arms and legs. They probably weren't a noble’s sons, but using more familiar honorifics might be too much. As he was thinking it over, Mehr drifted slightly closer, waving a hand in front of Lorenz’s face, startling him from his thoughts.

"Oh I'm sorry." Lorenz smiled apologetically, holding up an index finger. "Once more?"

Mehr let out a huff through his nose, taking a few steps back. He then pointed to his head before wagging his index finger between him and his brother, his brow raised in question.

"Uh… apologises, but I do not follow."

Mehr stared blankly, his head cocked slightly in confusion. He then placed a hand on his hip and tapped his foot in frustration. He appeared to be thinking. "Ah-- you… yester--" he tried to speak in broken Fodlan. His voice cracking slightly around the unfamiliar words and syllables.

Mahyar snorted and walked over to Jazmin tugging on her sleeve and speaking to her in Almyran. Jazmin looked up from her conversation with the Quartermaster, listening with a furrowed brow and made her way over with Mahyar following closely behind.

"Having some trouble?" she asked Lorenz with some amusement.

"We were doing well at first, but it seems we are now at an impasse," Lorenz conceded, feeling ashamed at his own failure to communicate properly. Mehr looked similarly embarrassed and frustrated with himself, his expression downcast. It touched Lorenz though, to hear him try first. It couldn’t have been easy to learn a new language, especially when there was no one fluent to teach you. Lorenz felt a newfound respect for Darius, Jazmin and even Simin. _Perhaps it’s time I consider learning some Almyran as well._

Mehr spoke to Jazmin and Jazmin's brows lifted in surprise as she said something back, her tone almost scolding. Mehr reached up to scratch at the back of his head with a sheepish smile while Mahyar interjected in a slight defensive tone of voice. The word 'Simin-jaan' standing out amongst the Almyran gibberish. Suddenly it all clicked together like puzzle pieces.

"Oh _now _I remember!" Lorenz said with a slight scoff. "You were the two from yesterday."

Lorenz could see it now in the way they stood, like teens who haven't quite grown into their bodies yet. Same as the assailants from yesterday. They had to be around 14 or 15 with how they appeared, far too young to be killers.

_Then again I was not much older, and Lysithea was about their age._

"Is the terrifying Spymaster around or does she only come out at night, like a bat?" Lorenz said, mostly to himself as he looked around his immediate area but Jazmin appeared to be the only woman in his immediate sight.

Mehr stepped forward bowing his head low with an apologetic expression before trying to convey something to Lorenz with pantomimed actions instead of words. He jumped into a stance and giving a few quick jabs and a knee kick before holding out a hand in Lorenz's direction. Lorenz looked up at Jazmin unsure and she laughed.

"Mehr is trying to say that he was impressed by your moves yesterday and wants to learn them."

"Oh…" Lorenz blinked oddly touched as he pressed a hand to his chest. "I- I don't know how good of a teacher I'll be but I'll do my best to--"

"_Shahzadeh-kanoom!"_

Lorenz turned in annoyance at being interrupted only to see three armored soldiers approaching him, looking snide.

"No _Shahzadeh_?" the one in the middle asked in accented in heavily accented Fodlan giving Lorenz an obvious once over with his eyes. Lorenz shuddered at the malicious gaze.

Mahyar stepped forward to place himself between Lorenz and the men and Jazmin gently caught Lorenz by the crook of his elbow to tug him back.

Mahyar snarled something up at them in his language, pressing his hands to his chest with his head tilted to the side challengingly

The soldier in the middle narrowed his eyes at Mahyar before muttering something to the other soldiers causing all three to laugh. Mahyar’s nostrils flared and he stepped forward to shove the soldier back by his chest. While this exchange was happening Lorenz could see Nader glance their way. He shouted something in Almyran at the rest of his men before making his way over.

Nader's voice boomed over the tense silence. The two of the three soldiers flinching at the sound, but the middle soldier turned to Nader with a slow smile spreading across his face. He spoke to Nader in Almyran his tone almost insulting in how mocking it was as the man brushed a finger over his nose. Lorenz didn't need to understand a word to know that he was being diminished, belittled.

Nader turned to Lorenz with a wary look. "Hey kid, can you fight?" he asked quietly in Fodlan.

Lorenz nodded stiffly.

"Think you can make a big show of it?"

Lorenz looked at him in confusion.

"Trust me, it'll be a lot easier in the long run if you can scare the shit out of them now," Nader explained waving a hand, not just at them but at the other soldiers watching. "Show them that you're not someone to mess with and they won’t bother you again."

_Oh… Oh! _Lorenz thought glancing down at his hand. It was still a little red around the fingers from the fire spell yesterday. But if it was just a matter of showing off his power, He could manage at least one Sagittae or even an Agnea's Arrow.

"Which weapon do you want?"

"No weapon." Lorenz smiled to himself, clenching his fist tightly. "But perhaps I can warm up first, with a practice dummy?"

Nader looked confused but shrugged and translated to the middle soldier. The man looked practically delighted at the opportunity presented to him. Not even caring that Lorenz and Nader conversed in another language beforehand. He gave Lorenz another once over before striding confidently back to the other soldiers, letting out a low whistle.

"They're brats, they don't mean any harm but they are a bit resentful at the thought of being led one day by a Fodlander," Nader commented "If you can shut them up that should make Claude's transition a little easier."

_As if I care about that,_ he thought as he flexed his fingers. No, this was going to be all for him and he was going to savor every second of it. He couldn't remember the last time he allowed his magic loose like this and as far as he could tell, no one in Almyra had seen magic before. So this would prove to be quite the show.

Before he could follow Nader to the training pitch he felt a tug on his sleeve and when he turned back he saw Mehr and Mahyar looking at him with open concern on their faces. Lorenz swallowed around the lump of affection forming in chest gave them a subtle wink, before reaching up to ruffle their heads. 

"Watch this," Lorenz said softly, even if they couldn't understand him, it didn't matter. He wanted to show off to them as well just how much stronger than these men he was.

Nader set up the dummy as requested and Lorenz stood a good distance away from it, taking a few deep breaths.

It had been so long since he's done this, having no need for the more powerful spells after graduating from Officers' Academy. But the muscle memory he developed during that time never truly went away. It was as innate as breathing now. He pulled at the deep magic inside of himself and commanded it to bend to his will; to remind it, himself and everyone around him that he was not someone to be trifled with.

When he could feel it was ready, he held up his glowing hands and pushed the magic out in a powerful singular beam. _Agnea's Arrow._

The blast fired like an actual arrow, straight and true and hitting the dummy with a powerful explosion. The blast continued down the entire length of the field before tapering out. 

When the dust settled and Lorenz lowered his hands, all that remained of the dummy was a smoking stump in the ground that propped it upright. Before Lorenz's feet was the start of a deep blackened divot that trailed all the way along the length of the field, past where the dummy used to be and just shy of the wall.

Behind him, he heard nothing but silence save for the sound of spears, axes, and shields being dropped to the ground in unison. 

A half second later he could hear the twin boys give off a raucous cheer and a smattering of applause. He couldn’t help the fondness burgeoning in his chest when he glanced their way, the boys unable to contain their excitement enough to stay still. They were chattering with Jazmin and each other excitedly in Almyran, their hands moving in a series of exuberant hand gestures, pantomiming what they had just witnessed.

_Boys will be boys. I suppose. _Lorenz chuckled before turning to the soldiers. They were not as enthusiastic, in fact, they barely moved. They were staring at Lorenz with wide stunned eyes, their weapons lying abandoned at their feet. The soldier that had come over to pick a fight with him was looking down right terrified, and then there was Nader, trying admirably to hide his snicker by turning his head into his shoulder.

"So," Lorenz smiled sweetly, ignoring how the skin around the joints of his hand pinched and stretched uncomfortably as he rested a closed fist on his cocked hip. "Shall we begin?"

Not a single soul stepped forward.

\------Two days later------

Lorenz decided to dedicate his Wednesday to exploring around the palace. Discovering what other amenities it had to offer.

He was shocked to find what appeared to be a fairly massive library but instead of books in the traditional sense, everything was written upon rolled up scrolls that were stored in triangular compartments. Lorenz carefully unfurled one only to see it was written entirely in Almyran. The writing was so foreign as to practically be illegible, looking nothing like the familiar letters back home.

"These aren't even letters," he complained to Jazmin, gently tracing the looping curves and dots with a bare brush of a pinky nail. "How can anyone read this?"

Jazmin peeked over his shoulder. "Very easily. This scroll talks about the teachings of Ashu Zarathushtra."

"Ashu...?"

"The prophet of our faith, Zoroastrianism," Jazmin explained.

"Ah," Lorenz said, looking it over. "The religion that worships fire..."

Jazmin actually smacked him over the back of the head with another rolled up scroll. "Ow! why--!?"

"We do not _'worship' _fire!" she snapped at him, furious. Before taking in a deep calming breath with her eyes closed, pressing her nose between her tanned weathered hands.

"Fire is an aspect yes, for we believe that fire is God's light and wisdom," she explained patiently. "But that is not the focus. The focus of Zoroastrianism is the Threefold Path of Asha; _Humata, Huxta, Huvarshta_ or Good thoughts, Good words, Good deeds."

Lorenz listened even though it sounded ridiculous to him. But it was a topic Jazmin was clearly passionate about and he did not want to be smacked again. "You believe in a divine being that created the world and the people in it as well?"

"You speak of Ahura Mazda. Do Fodlaners have someone similar?"

"Yes, my people in Fodlan believe it was the Goddess who created us and if we are devout through prayer and deeds alike we are rewarded in death to be at the Goddess' side in the afterlife."

"You say 'my people' as if you yourself are not among those of faith."

Lorenz bit his lip. "Admittedly I am not the most… devout believer in the teachings of Seiros. Prayer sometimes feels less like an act of faith and more like a thing one does to keep up appearances as a noble," Lorenz replied with some bitterness. His father a prime example of the latter. He always took the time to pray at churches like a man of faith, but then ignored the complaints of the commoners in his territory for the sake of conducting business with the minor lords that were also in attendance. It was a thing that Lorenz disagreed with in silence, as always.

"Zoroastrianism differs from person to person. Some visit temples, while others stay home. Some pray often, others choose not to pray at all, like the _Shahzadeh_. Prayer is not what makes you faithful, your words, deeds and thoughts are." Jazmin hummed. "So long as you do follow those three tenets, you follow the will of Ahura."

"It sounds so simple when you put it that way." Lorenz scoffed lightly waving his hand dismissively. "By that logic does that mean even someone like me could be Zoroastrian?"

“If you like. No one will force you to convert.” Jazmin then frowned tapping a single finger to the table. “It is… contested by some who are set in the old ways. The queen was not allowed to convert because her father was not of the faith. One of the queen’s visionaries sought to change that for her.”

“Visionaries?” Lorenz asked.

Jazmin smiled mysteriously. “Yes, men and women who want Almyra to change, who followed the queen and now follow _Shahzadeh_. Darius-joon, Simin-jaan, Farzin-joon...” She then clicked her tongue. “Myself, and you… if you wish it.”

_Change Almyra?_ Lorenz thought, staring at Jazmin in bewilderment before turning his head away.

_As if such a thing is possible._

\-----The next day------

"Agha-Gloucester!!"

A booming voice distracted Lorenz from performing his lance strike and when he looked in the direction of the sound, he spotted Darius grinning over by the stables handing the reins of his horse to a waiting stable hand. His crimson-gold cape billowing behind him as he swanned over to where Lorenz was training. A wooden box tucked unassuming under his arm.

"Wonderful to see you my friend," he said as he approached.

"As am I." Lorenz nodded and was surprised to find he meant it. Darius' good cheer was quite contagious. "I apologize for the state I'm in, I must look like such a mess right now." He said using the sleeve of his cotton undershirt to wipe his brow of sweat and dirt.

Darius waved him off. "Nonsense, you're as lovely as a rose compared to this group." Darius chuckled pointing a thumb to the soldiers running laps around the field. "I see you are growing accustomed to Almyran spears."

The spears of Almyra differed from the ones in Fodlan. For starters, they were not weapons to be wielded on horseback but rather the tools of militia men and were usually paired with a large shield of some kind as Nader explained.

As such, the spears were extremely light and simple in design. Just a pole with a leaf shaped bronze spearhead at one end and rounded ball for a counter weight on the other. There was no hand guard, no wrapped fabric to provide a proper grip, and no extra frills or design.

"I confess, it’s quite troublesome but I've figured out a way to make it work."

Darius placed a hand over his chin, rubbing it absently in thought as he stared down at the spear.

"Pray, I do not like that look. What are you scheming?" Lorenz asked warily.

"Oh it is nothing, say Agha-Gloucester, when _is _your day of birth?"

Lorenz let out an exhausted sigh through his nose, just barely hiding a smile. "You have all the subtlety of a hammer to the head Darius-joon."

Darius gave him a quirked smile in return.

"But if you _must _know, its the 13th of Garland Moon."

"... which is when in Almyran time?"

Lorenz blinked. "Are your months different? Actually no never mind, of course they are." Lorenz sighed rubbing his temple. "What month is it now?"

"We just started the month of Khordad six days ago."

_Started the month!? The month is almost over! It's the 28th of Harpstring moon now!. _

"My birthday is sixteen days from now."

"Sixteen." Darius' eyes darted with a crooked finger on his chin, counting in his head. "Then it's on the 22nd of Khordad?"

Lorenz shrugged. "I haven't the faintest idea, but I'll trust your judgement."

"That’s good to know." Darius smiled mysteriously. "In case someone wants to get you something."

"I've told you it's unnecessary."

"And I've told _you_, you can't refuse gifts." 

Lorenz huffed out a laugh, "Alright but you must tell me your birthday so that I might give you something in exchange."

"Regretfully, my birthday has passed. Another year older, another silver hair," He bemoaned lightly reaching up with a free hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

Lorenz glanced down at the box under his arm. “What is that? A present for the King.”

“Oh this...” Darius said looking a bit uncomfortable as he shifted the box into both his hands. “Technically it’s a gift for you but I’m not sure if it would be as well received as a Fodlan spear would be.”

That had Lorenz deeply concerned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a tradition you see,” Darius murmured holding out the box to him. “How the satraps show their support to the new Queen… King in this case,” he amended with a sheepish smile. “When you are… married to _Shahzadeh_ you wear five pieces of jewelry given to you by the four countries. Bracelets from the east and west, a necklace from the south, a headpiece from the north.” He gave a half smile. “Which I am working on.”

“And what is the fifth piece?” Lorenz asked eyeing the box in Darius’ hands. He was beating around the bush, slow to get to the point and that did nothing to ease the anxious bubble in Lorenz’s chest.

“The fifth are earrings to be given to you by your husband. _Shahzadeh_ had these commissioned in advance and I was to deliver them to him to be given to you.”

Lorenz felt his heart stop in his chest before racing wildly like a jackrabbit. Earrings!? Pieces of jewelry to be stabbed into his earlobe, earrings? Accessories typically worn by women and mercenaries but should never be seen on the ears of noble males as they were seen as too crass or too feminine, _those _earrings!?

_“Look son, isn’t that a disgusting display?” his father sneered at the Duke’s son with a citrine stud in his ear. “If I ever caught you with something like **that**, I would have disowned you on the spot. Duke Riegen is far too lenient with him.”_

_“**I** think it makes him look quite fetching. Youthful,” his mother snipped under her breath taking a sip of her wine._

_Father glared at her. “Son, what do you think?”_

_Truthfully, Lorenz thought it looked nice, the sparkle of orange making the green of his eyes shine. Such a nice color..._

_“It’s unbefitting of a noble leader to wear something so foppish,” Lorenz lied with a scoff, his nose upturned. His mother looked at him with a furrowed brow, disappointed and Count Gloucester smiled cupping his hand at the back of Lorenz’s neck._

_“That’s my boy,” he said with pride._

“I would not be caught _dead _in earrings!” Lorenz hissed angrily causing Darius to startle. “Or any jewelry!”

“I- yes I understand your displeasure, but it is tradition you see and _Shahzadeh_ made certain they would be the kind that could be clipped to the lobe so you won’t have to actually pierce--”

Lorenz couldn’t explain why this of all things affected him, but it did. It made him feel irrationally humiliated that he was to be dressed in jewels, paraded before the court like some kind of high class prostitute.

_If Claude has no intention of actually marrying me, then why did he have this made? Is it really just for show? Or am I being trained to be a docile bride without even knowing it? What would father say if he saw me like this!?_

He smacked the box out of Darius’ hand, knocking it into the dirt. “While I _appreciate _the thought, I_ refuse _his gift.” He snarled before turning an about face from Darius, and storming back to his room. Uncaring if Jazmin or either of the twins followed him.

\--------------

He had all but collapsed face first on his bed like a child and fell into a restless sleep the second his head hit the pillow.

When he woke up, the sky outside his window had a kiss of orange left from the sun sinking on the distant western horizon and there was _someone_ in his room. He didn’t know how he knew, but he could feel the invading presence like a spider crawling down his spine.

_“_You are a difficult man to catch alone.”

Lorenz swallowed, of course it would be Simin, he turned his head towards the wall opposite his balcony, where her voice was coming from. “If you are going to kill me, do it quickly. I grow weary of your games.”

Simin moved from where she was standing in the darkest corner of his room and honestly, Lorenz was glad she did because he would not have seen her otherwise.

“Why do you think I’m going to kill you?” she asked, her head cocked to the side.

“Your little gremlins no doubt told you of my display on the training field,” Lorenz huffed sitting up. It was a display he was starting to regret with each passing second. Not just because Simin was here, but because he had been needlessly rude to a man who had been nothing but welcoming to him, just for doing his job. _I should apologize to Darius, find a way to make it up to him._

“My ‘gremlins’ as you say, didn’t need to tell me anything. I’ve had my eyes on you at all times.”

“Of course you did.” Lorenz sighed.

“Also calling me a bat isn’t just offensive, it’s false. They make far too much noise.” She scoffed, sounding affronted

“That’s true,” Lorenz couldn’t help but smile. “I’m sure I can give you a proper nickname in time. One that’s more fitting.”

She made a noncommittal hum before returning to the prior thread of conversation. “Besides, even if I didn’t have my eye on you, they wouldn’t tell me anything. They adore you, Ahura knows why.”

Hearing that caused a bubble of affection to fill in his chest. To find that he was not just tolerated, but adored. “They are good kids.”

“...they are.” Simin said, her voice soft, fond.

She then moved to the center of the room, right in front of his desk. Lorenz’s eyes had adjusted to the dark and he could see that the wooden box containing the earrings was sitting innocently on his desk. Jazmin must have accepted them and left them there while he slept.

“What don’t I know?”

“...I beg your pardon?” he asked, not understanding her question.

Simin flipped open the lid of the box with a flick of her wrist. Her gaze never leaving the earrings within as she spoke.

“After I threatened you, you asked _Shahzadeh_ if ‘I know’ and he said ‘No’. I stopped listening after that. I was…” She trailed off. Her voice as fragile as thin ice. But she steeled herself back to a hardened edge as she continued. “I had hoped he would be forthcoming, but he has not been. So I’m asking you, Lorenz Gloucester of Fodlan, _what don’t I know?_”

Her tone of voice never rose in volume, if anything it went softer, but the sharpness in which she spoke the final question felt as deadly as her knives.

“I… I would be betraying Claude’s trust if I--”

As quick as a snake, Simin went from standing by his desk with her back turned to him to crouching over him on the bed. Her left knee pressed just under his sternum, pinning him to the bed with her full weight. The curved blades were crossed at his neck, tips curved like a deadly collar around his neck. Lorenz didn’t move, eyes wide and frightened as he could scarcely even _breathe_.

“Don’t talk to me of betraying _Shahzadeh_!” she snapped at him, this close he could see a bit of her eyes. Rust colored and burning with her breath hot against his face. “I have been nothing but loyal to him. Yet you appear, an outsider from Fodlan, and he shares secrets with you that he does not share with me!” She snarled, the blades shifting, tightening the steel noose. “Why? What makes you so special!?”

Lorenz gasped, panic holding a much tighter grip on his neck than her blades. “I… don’t know,” he coughed out, desperate to get her to back off, tears pricking in his eyes. "Goddess please, I don't know!"

That seemed to startle the anger from her. Enough so to get her to slowly lift the blades from his neck. The next second she removed herself completely from his personal space, standing a safe distance away to give Lorenz his space to breathe. Lorenz gasped for breath to calm his racing pulse and reached up to rub his neck, removing the lingering chill of steel. There was no blood but he wouldn’t know for sure until he checked in better lighting.

“I- apologises.” She said, sounding almost shocked with herself as she returned her blades to their sheaths with a soft _snick_. "That was- I lost my temper. It won't happen again."

Lorenz laid in silence just breathing, _in and out. _Once he felt calm, composed, he sat up to look at her with a wary eye. Even in the growing darkness he could see her head and shoulders hunched like a wilting flower. It was odd for him to feel this way, especially over someone who was just about to kill him less than a minute ago, but he felt a bit sorry for her. If he was to look at things from her perspective, it made sense that she would be angry, even hurt by Claude's distance. Maybe to Claude she was just a tool to be used, a subordinate, but to her…

It was possible that her feelings ran much deeper than a subordinate's devotion to her liege. That jealousy was an innate factor in her hostility towards him, if Lorenz were assuage that jealousy...

_I think, _Lorenz pondered with a small smile, _I can work with this._

“Claude suspects someone of murdering his mother,” he said after a few calculated moments, just long enough to sound reluctant.

Simin's head tilted toward him.

“You asked me what I was referring to in my conversation with Claude. The thing that you don’t know?" he clarified. "Claude thinks someone is responsible for killing his mother and wants me to be bait until we find out who did it.”

“Why-” Her voice cracked with barely contained emotion that Lorenz pretended not to hear. She cleared her throat and tried again, tone much more neutral. “Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

"I'm certain there were many reasons," Lorenz said, voice placating. "But I won't claim to know them. Despite how it may seem to you, Claude hasn't always been the most forthcoming with me either." His gaze flickered to the Alliance Safety box on his nightstand.

The silence he received seemed fraught with doubt, Lorenz could practically hear her mind shifting, carefully considering his words for a hidden lie. Perhaps another push was needed.

Lorenz smiled, leaning forward to rest an elbow on his knee, his chin in his palm. “Simin-jaan, I have no intention of marrying your Prince and he has no intent of marrying me. Once we find his mother’s killer, I’ll be going back home to Fodlan and you will never be subject to the pleasure of my company for the rest of your life. Naturally the faster we find this killer the better it will be for us all.”

“How do I know you are not lying to me?”

Lorenz scoffed. “Well, I suppose you could check with your _Shahzadeh,_ see if he’ll be more forthcoming.” Simin jerked like she had been struck and Lorenz immediately felt bad. “My apologies, that was rather harsh of me.”

“No.” She sighed. “It hurts because it's true. I had to ask a stranger from a distant land for answers because the man I chose to follow denied me those answers.” She then looked up at him her voice hesitant and slightly hopeful.

“And you truly have no feelings for him?”

Lorenz snorted. “Hardly! My attraction is strictly towards the fairer sex,” he said with a laugh that was just a touch more forced than it should be. _Odd. Maybe there's something in my throat._

“And he has no feelings for _you_? Are you certain?”

“Goodness my dear, I should hope not!” Lorenz scoffed, waving her off. “We have known each other for barely two days. I highly doubt your _Shahzadeh_ would be so foolish as to fall for his bait.”

She was silent considering him once more with a tilt of her head. “Very well Agha-Gloucester,” she said, her voice returning to icy neutrality. "Against my better judgement, I believe what you are telling me."

She then placed a hand on her chin in thought. "_Shahzadeh_'s mother had many enemies and people with whom she quarreled with, it will be no small feat narrowing that list down. Did _Shahzadeh _explain how he arrived at the conclusion that her death was suspect?"

"He said his doctor told him and that Claude believed him."

Simin made a low _tsk_ in disgust. "So Farzin is it?"

It's the second time he's heard that name and it was in a much less favorable tone then the first. He was tempted to ask but thought better of it as she made her way to the door. It seemed she now had a new target for her ire and Lorenz could not have been more relieved to have her gone.

Just as she was about to leave, her hand resting on the door handle, she paused.

"I… thank you for telling me this, Agha-Gloucester," she said after a pregnant pause. Her voice surprisingly soft. "You didn't have to tell me, and I certainly wouldn't blame you if you felt threatened enough to tell _Shahzadeh_ of my actions when he returns."

She sounded properly remorseful. "I haven't the slightest idea what actions you are referring to. We were merely talking," Lorenz said offhandedly.

If she was surprised by his words, she didn't show it. "Thank you, I promise that I _will_ repay you, if only because I hate leaving debts unpaid. With that said, may I offer you something that I've noticed?"

Her tone suggested that whatever she was about to say, Lorenz wasn't going to like it. But he was nothing if not a curious and masochistic individual. "Go on then," he acquiesced softly.

“I have seen men fish,” she said, tone firm and assured. “They do not gaze at their lures the way _Shahzadeh_ gazes at you. Just a thought."

Something caught in Lorenz’s chest, feeling as if his own heart was hooked by a fishing line. But before he could ask what her what she was implying, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for the Persian parts  
*Excuse me?  
**Sir Lorenz wishes to train, do you have a spear?
> 
> ^Is he talking to us?  
^^Maybe he’s mad about yesterday. Should we apologize?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CALI!  
MAH GIRL!  
I can't thank you enough for beta-ing this!
> 
> And Key... sweet Key. You're sketch was so pretty that it made me alter an entire scene around because I wanted to put the image you drew into this chapter. So thanks for that. I'll add it in once you finish it and I figure out how to do the thing.
> 
> And to all the comment-ers and kudos-ers. Thanks for your endless patience. You might not hear from me for awhile since I'll be prepping for our upcoming ClaurenzWeek2020
> 
> Anyone interested in joining, definitely should! I would love to see what all of you guys come up with! :DDD

Lorenz wasted no time in seeking the merchant king out the following morning. However, according to Darius' attendant, the man was stuck in a few meetings with King Arash hoping to implore his King for a few more guards for his trade ships. 

Lorenz waited patiently outside the doors, going over his words in his head while Jazmin rubbed his back soothingly.

His father was of the belief that those in power were always in the right by virtue of their ability to act when others could not. That it was their duty, as nobles to decide what was best for the commoners. There was some level of pride in that thought.

But then again, his time at the Academy taught him that even he could be wrong on occasion. That emotions could run away with him, that he could make incorrect assumptions of others and say things that were needlessly cruel without realizing it. But fortunately, for every terrible thing he did, he was always met with some form of forgiveness when he apologized sincerely. Such understanding was hard to find, even within his own family, where even the smallest slight was met with harsh criticism.

He could only hope that Darius would be as forgiving as his classmates and professor were.

The doors opened and Jazmin removed her hand, taking a few steps to stand an appropriate distance away. Attendants to royalty weren't allowed to be familiar with their charges, and Lorenz felt her absence like a chill down his spine. Jazmin had done so much for him, reminding him more of a mother than a servant. But she had been scolded for grabbing his elbow on the training field and he didn't want to cause the elderly woman any more trouble just because he was terrified.

Darius' eyes met his and his brows arched in surprise before his expression hardened. He turned to the man he was conversing with and politely extracted himself from the conversation.

Taking the opportunity given, Lorenz walked right up to him. Hot shame colored his face as he bowed his head low before a few stragglers, and even the King himself, as he apologized. His tongue tripped uselessly over the words he had practiced so he decided to just forgo them altogether and speak out his feelings.

"From the first day we met, you have been nothing but kind and accommodating," he said quietly. "Yet I acted in such a childish manner unbefitting of a Fodlan noble and as a future ruler. Words cannot express how sorry I am for my behavior yesterday and, if you'll permit me, I wish to make it up to you in whatever way you see fit."

His words were met with mostly silence, soft murmurs rippling around him as the other councilors whispered amongst themselves, their voices curious.

Lorenz had expected to be dismissed coldly before these people, as his father sometimes had when Lorenz committed a faux pas or spoke out of turn during public meetings. Instead Lorenz was startled by a warm hand resting on his shoulder and when he raised his head, there was a smile on Darius' face.

"There is no need to look like I'm going to hit you Agha-Gloucester." Darius chuckled with a bright smile that was all teeth. "We all lose ourselves to our emotions and you've been under a lot of stress. Bearing it better than most, I might add."

Lorenz could feel his face go slack with relief, the tension he had been holding in his back and shoulders released from him in a single sigh. 

"However," Darius continued, not quite finished, "if you insist on making it up to me, I have some free time, if you would like to host me for tea in the Fodlan way."

_The Fodlan way?_ Lorenz thought of his gift from Ferdinand, new and still untouched in its box. Lorenz had feared it would never see use given the way Almyrans drink their tea in glass instead of porcelain. The thought of finally using it and sharing a piece of Fodlan with someone made him near giddy with excitement. "I-I would be honored," he stuttered unable to keep the smile from his face.

\--------

After a quick trip to his room to collect the set, Darius led him and Jazmin to a different hallway in the west wing of the palace that led out to another balcony. Much like the view from Lorenz's room, this balcony had a lovely view of the city. It was a suitable enough tea spot, but Darius did not stop there.

He guided Lorenz down a small stairwell that led into a small walled off garden. Exotic flowers of multiple hues surrounded them, filling the air with their perfume. At its center stood a pavilion with ivy crawling up the stone columns, pale buds along the vine closed as tight as pursed lips. There was a low table set up under it with velvety green seat cushions with yellow trim and tassels that dangled at the corners. It was both formal and informal just as everything in Almyra tended to be.

"Judging by your face, this is your first time here," Darius commented when he noticed Lorenz's wide eyed awe. "I fear _Shahzadeh _will be quite cross with me for showing you this first." He laughed sheepishly.

"The gardens," Lorenz murmured, glancing around before finally finding what he was looking for. A waist high bush with yellow blooms shining in the sun's light. Unable to help himself, Lorenz cupped a blossom in his hand and leaned close, taking in its strong fragrance with a whiff. The rose in his vase was just starting to wilt, he wondered if he would be allowed to pluck one from the bush to bring back to his room.

"Jazmin-jaan, would you be able to bring some pastries from the kitchen?" Lorenz asked standing upright. "Tea is best enjoyed with food after all." Not to mention he had yet to have breakfast and he was beginning to feel pangs of hunger. "Also I appear to have forgotten sugar and milk," he noted handing her the sugar bowl and milk sugar from the set. "If you would be so kind…"

"At once, _Khanzadeh._" She bowed, businesslike and efficient, as she retreated back up the steps.

Lorenz then went to work, setting the table for two and prepping the tea while Darius took a seat. Normally the water was to be heated in a metal kettle but a large metal bowl from the kitchen served just as well as Lorenz heated it with a brush of fire magic.

As he set to work measuring and preparing the tea, he noticed Darius watching the process with close scrutiny. He was rubbing his chin in that way to show when he was thinking, eyes intent like he was trying to burn what he was seeing to memory.

Lorenz was reminded of Claude's words that Darius wasn't a man who did things without good reason. Whether it was to teach himself a new language or put up with his father to finalize a trade agreement, every action was to ultimately serve his own end. So why would he be wasting valuable time with Lorenz unless he was hoping to gain something for it?

"Did you want to learn Fodlan's tea etiquette to better facilitate trade talks?" Lorenz guessed, pouring the hot water into the pot to brew. 

Darius' eyes darted up in surprise before his lips curled into a sly smile "Nothing gets by you." Darius chuckled, leaning back in a relaxed way with his hands folded in his lap. "When I was there, I was invited to tea with some minor nobles. During which, I got the distinct impression I was being made fun of. Not by _what_ was said, _how_ they said it. It's... different from the more _direct_ way people look down at you here," he said quietly. "I dealt with it in silence, of course, your father was observing me after all. But it was a bit humiliating, I wished to know what I did wrong so it wouldn’t happen again."

It was true that tea etiquette in Fodlan was a delicate dance of manners and decorum. Any failure to abide by those secret laws meant ridicule. Based on how they did their tea here, Lorenz would not have been surprised if Darius placed a sugar cube between his teeth before drinking and was laughed at for the strangeness of it. If he didn't know Darius or how they drank their tea in Almyra, would he have been one of those that mocked him so cruelly?

The thought made him distinctly uncomfortable. "I am so sor--"

But Darius waved him off with a huff. "You must not apologize for every little offense, my boy, especially those that have nothing to do with you." He then rested his elbows on the table, interlocking his fingers to rest his chin on them. "Let them laugh for now. It is better to be perceived as amusing than as a threat."

There was a story there, Lorenz was sure of it. He could read it in the way his eyes darkened and brow furrowed. But before he could ask, Jazmin arrived with the tray and Lorenz's attention was diverted to the tea that finished brewing. Lorenz poured Darius his cup with care, making certain not to spill a single drop. "The first cup is to be enjoyed straight," Lorenz explained. "If you want sugar in the second cup, place the cube in the empty cup before the tea is poured."

"Ah." Darius nodded resting the delicate cup on the saucer. "So that's what I did wrong."

_As I thought. _Lorenz sighed pouring into his own cup. The color was perfect and the aroma of roses tickled his nose. He was surprised to find a blend of rose tea in the market that was more fragrant than the one back home but it made sense considering how strongly the roses smelled.

He watched intently as Darius took a sip of his own, nodding in approval. Lorenz felt his chest swell with pride, as he took his own sip, perfect. 

"So tell me _Lorenz-joon, _how do you like Almyra so far?" Darius asked lightly.

It was a fair question, he had been here long enough to start adjusting to the way things were here but not long enough to become familiar. But thanks to Jazmin, the twins and even Nader it was becoming a bit more bearable than it would have been on his own. "It's…" he trailed off struggling to think of the right word for it, "... different." 

Darius raised a brow. "Good different or bad different?"

"Some good." Lorenz thought of Mehr, Mahyur, and Jazmin. Of delicious food and moonlight flights with the scent of clove and allspice tickling his nose. Of the market of exotic items for him to peruse and of a land yet to be explored. "Some bad." He thought of unfamiliar months, language, and written words. Of a religion so different from his own and clothing that looked terribly wrong on him, like he was just playing dress-up. He thought of having to constantly be on guard, as soldiers' stares burned at his back or when a shadow moved just a slight bit unnaturally.

Darius seemed content with that answer, nodding. "Well said, but such is life." He shrugged. "You take the good with the bad."

"Quite true."

Darius took a careful sip, giving a pleased sigh. He then looked down at the tea in his cup, a finger brushing the rim, he seemed to be thinking of what he was about to say. "I only ask because I find myself utterly fascinated by the differences in culture between Almyra and Fodlan."

That caught Lorenz's attention, he was trying to get at something in a roundabout way again but Lorenz could not yet figure out what. He waited for Darius to elaborate but when he didn't, Lorenz took it upon himself to push the conversation onward. "What are you implying?"

Darius jerked his head up, giving a blithe smile. "Oh you know, the months, the language, the way you drink your tea…" his eyes then turned sharp, imploring. "Your… limited views on gender norms and sexuality."

_There it is! _Lorenz's cup smacked down onto the saucer a little harder than normal and he felt his entire body bristle defensively. "You are very _brazen _to bring up that topic now."

"I only wish to get to the heart of things as I'm a bit confused as to why you accepted being a consort to someone you knew to be male if you and your father both took issue with it."

Lorenz blanched fear creeping . "D-did my father say something?"

Darius mouth turned down in a frown. "When he thought I wasn't listening, yes, he said _many_ things to the lords under him. Things, I personally found to be disgusting from a man who claims to be more civilized than us _barbarians_." He spat out in anger.

Then his expression softened. "Based on that, when I gave you the earrings I expected disgust. That so narrow a perspective from your father had infected you. I feared that the first person _Shahzadeh _decided to open his heart to, would break it so callously."

Lorenz swallowed nervously, his heart beating a nervous rhythm in his chest. Yes, it made sense Darius would think in such a way. Lorenz underestimated how much these people cared for their prince even if nothing was given in return. Such unquestioning loyalty was admirable.

"But I did not see disgust in your eyes." Darius shook his head, his expression full of pity, all of it directed at Lorenz. "What I saw was fear."

Lorenz's eyes widened, his heart racing so fast with that very same fear that the increased pulse made his hands shake. Darius' clever eyes darted down, catching everything but Lorenz didn't feel like he was being pinned, accused or cornered. Just gently observed like one watched a startled deer.

"You do not... need to answer to me," Darius murmured carefully closing his eyes and lifting the tea to his lips. "It is not my business. I only wish to let you know two things. One, that you will feel better when you decide to confess to yourself." He then opened his eyes before placing the cup back down.

"And two, your father won't reach you here. In this matter at least, you are safe."

Lorenz nearly cried, the tight knot in his stomach unravelling at the words 'you are safe.' He never realized just how unsafe he felt in his own home, how much he kept bottled up until it spilled over.

_'How long are you going to pretend not to know?'_

Darius seemed to read the sadness in his silence, brow lowered in a scowl. He then angrily muttered something in Almyran into his cup before taking a sip.

That was the last either of them spoke of it for the rest of their tea.

\-------

Claude had returned from the west later that evening. Lorenz seated at the dining table when the doors burst open. Bahadur walked in first, excited murmurs and cheers cresting over his heavy footfalls as he stormed to take his seat next to his brother. Gaspar, long hair flowing off his shoulders in loose waves, followed hurriedly at his heels to sit at his father's other side, but not before catching Lorenz's eye as he passed and giving him a quick wink.

Lorenz scoffed in disgust but was distracted by a warm hand grazing his shoulder. Claude, dressed in his full royal regalia, crashed into the empty seat between Lorenz and Arash. He looked exhausted, bags under his eyes and slightly pinkish scar under his jaw that was not there before. Lorenz wanted to still be mad, to angrily berate Claude for the earrings and for going west to help his uncle slaughter his people. But the prince looked so drained of his usual energy, Lorenz's anger drained from him as well.

"Welcome back." Lorenz said instead. Voice soft and in a near whisper over the din of the crowd.

Claude glanced from the corner of his eye, his lips upturned in a tired smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes but it fell away to something neutral as he served himself his food.

"Claude," Arash spoke turning away from his brother. "Bahadur wishes to ask your consort something, will you translate?"

"Me?" Lorenz asked, startled.

Claude let out a pained groan. "Can I get some food in me before we start an interrogation!?"

_An interrogation!? _Lorenz thought, turning to Claude in alarm.

"Claude," Arash said warningly.

"Fine!" Claude snapped, slamming his plate down.

On Bahadur's other side, Lorenz could see Gaspar turn his head away to snicker into his shoulder. His long thick hair, getting dangerously close to falling in his _Mast_.

Arash leaned back in his seat and Bahadur spoke past him directly to Claude, his tone low and angry. Claude made a face before turning to Lorenz.

"Amu wants to know if you've been secretly keeping contact with the general manning the Locket?"

_Holst? _"Of course not!" Lorenz huffed.

Claude translated and Bahadur spoke again, his voice gruffer. Claude rolled his eyes.

"Are you lying?" Claude asked.

"I am not," Lorenz bit out. He waited until Claude finished speaking his response to Bahadur before whispering to Claude. "Why does he think that?"

Claude glanced back at him, expression thoughtful. "It's nothing you need concern yourself with _darling._" He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes, his eyes then darted pointedly to the right where Lorenz could see Gaspar watching them intently.

_I'll tell you later._

Lorenz gave a subtle nod and went back to his food.

"_Khanzadeh-kanoom, _are you feeling comfortable here in the palace?" Gaspar asked leaning forward to speak loudly Lorenz directly.

Lorenz was learning some Almyran from Jazmin. Nothing complex quite yet, just greetings, useful phrases and terms of respect.

_"If someone calls you Khanzadeh-kanoom, it is a sarcastic insult in the guise of formality. They are referring to you as a princess."_

Lorenz bit the inside of his cheek and turned a sweet smile towards Claude's cousin. "Very much so, thank you for asking."

From the corner of his eye Lorenz spotted Nader, who knew that Lorenz understood what the word meant. Nader had seen first hand Lorenz blast a training dummy to ash and took a loud sip of his Mey with a hidden smile curling at his lips.

Lorenz stifled a matching smile of his own, keeping his expression neutral as he turned back to his food. _Darius was right, it is better to be looked down on. _Lorenz thought, reveling in his secret advantage.

"That's good! Your comfort is a priority for us all," he said with a smile, some nasty bitterness bleeding into his tone. He then turned to Claude and asked him something in Almyran, his tone airy but with that nasty little dig, like a knife to the ribs.

Lorenz noticed Claude tense briefly beside him and Bahadur snapped something harshly at his son. Gaspar apologized with a bow of his head, even though the smile never left his face. He still had his brow raised inquisitively, awaiting an answer. Claude quickly unruffled his feathers with an easy smile before saying something to Gaspar in Almyran.

Gaspar tossed his head back with a laugh saying something back that Lorenz didn't catch. Claude chuckled in response, a smile that didn't reach his eyes as his hand was clenched around his knee under the table. It didn't take a fluent ear for Lorenz to pick up that whatever they were discussing was about him. Words spoken in foreign tongue to keep Lorenz from hearing it. The anger from before returned with a vengeance, this time finding a new target in Gaspar.

"We will speak no more of this." Arash ordered in Fodlan, his voice reverberating right down to the marrow in Lorenz's bones. "All talk of war and politics is to be kept off the Almyran dinner table. Understood?"

Gaspar opened his mouth to protest but a glare from his father silenced him instantly. The young man turning back to his food with a sulk.

"Shahzadeh." Nader leaned in, perhaps deciding to ease the atmosphere. "Why didn't you tell me your Consort was a secret powerhouse?"

Lorenz flushed with pride at the compliment, crass though it was, while Claude blinked at him.

"What do you mean?" Claude asked voice low.

Nader chuckled. "Some soldiers tried to use your absence to bully him. He put them in their place real quick."

Claude turned to Lorenz. "Did you now? Well you're just full of surprises." He looked far from upset by this, he actually looked pleased, proud.

Lorenz smiled nervously, tucking his hair behind his ear. "It was just a little dark magic, I'm hardly a master, there were others at the Academy that were far superior."

"Don't be modest!" Nader laughed smacking him hard between the shoulders. "You should consider giving lessons, we could really use skills like that on the battlefield!"

Lorenz's smile fell. _Teach them magic, to use against us?_

"W-well magic is not something just _anyone_ can do, you have to show an affinity for it." Lorenz stuttered out excuses. "It also takes a lot of time and-"

Nader's own smile fell from his face, going to a frown. But before he could say anything more Claude interrupted.

"I've heard tales of people attempting magic when they weren't suited go and losing limbs." Claude commented offhandedly, swirling his drink. "Sounds pretty risky."

That wasn't exactly true, yes magic had a risk but nothing quite so extreme. In fact, with proper training, _anyone_ could do a basic spell. Which is why great care was taken on who would be trained. Magic in the wrong hands could do terrible things.

The last thing Lorenz wanted was to give a potential enemy that kind of power. Claude must have picked up on that and was gracious enough to give him an out.

"Yes it is," He nodded, "Quite risky. As crude as your soldiers can be, I would hate for them to lose their hands."

Nader gave a shrug. "Ah damn shame, I would love to be able to blast a whole battalion like that."

Lorenz breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you." He stage whispered to Claude behind his hand.

"Don't mention it." He murmured, glaring down at his Mey. "I'm with you, I don't want that kind of thing here." He ground out. "Last thing we need is a group of Almyrans that can rain fire on their enemies."

"I honestly thought you would be all for any battle advantage."

Claude glanced at Lorenz from the corner of his narrowed, sly eye. "What have I done to give you the impression that I'm a person who craves war?"

_Truthfully nothing, _Lorenz was reluctantly forced to concede. _But I need to keep making excuses to convince myself that killing you is the right thing to do, even as all signs point to it being inexcusably wrong._

_I can't help but wonder, truly, what father is thinking. Why would he risk war to kill a prince from another country? What does he hope to gain? What does he fear to lose?_

The questions felt too massive to think about now. Not with everything else on Lorenz's mind. So he locked it into the back of his mind for now. Another puzzle to solve on top of all the others that occupied Lorenz's mind. 

\------

After dinner Lorenz all but dragged Claude to be his escort for the evening, politely sending Jazmin away so they could talk in private.

The second they entered Lorenz's room and the door behind Lorenz was shut, Claude all but crashed onto the mountain of pillows face first with a tired sigh.

"Ahura praised, a real bed!" His voice muffled.

Lorenz rolled his eyes, going over to sit at the edge of his bed. "If you pretend to fall asleep to keep from telling me anything you should know; the pitcher on the table is filled with water and I will douse you with it."

Claude turned on his side to look at him, his dark hair mussed by the pillow and his green eyes crinkled slightly by his lazy smile. Lorenz was taken aback by just how charming looked like that. Not a regal prince, or a battle worn warrior, but a young man who was sleepy and indulgent.

"I think that's the first dinner we've had where you didn't leave angry with me."

"You have your cousin to thank for that," Lorenz scoffed in disgust, arms folded over his chest. "Also you seem tired, so I'll go easy on yo-"

He was interrupted by a small pillow smacking him in the face.

"There, we're even now." Claude grinned like a naughty child, as he sat up.

Lorenz stared utterly gobsmacked before letting out an annoyed huff through his nose. "If you are trying to distract me, it won't work." Lorenz scowled, brushing a fluff of a feather off his shoulder.

"Yeah, I figured as much." Claude sighed, exhausted, as he rested his back against the wall, arms folded over his chest.

"To answer your question, Amu noticed a significant increase in the number of guards at the Locket."

Lorenz's eyes widened in surprise. "You were at the Locket? I thought you were there because some soldiers crossed the border!"

"They _claimed_ to be soldiers," Claude clarified, head tilt up to stare at the ceiling, brow furrowed in deep thought. "But Amu is actually smarter than I initially thought. At the very least, he understands the possible ramifications of acting rashly with things so tense." He paused for a moment tilting his head from side to side, popping out kinks in his neck before continuing. 

"Instead of killing them outright and declaring war on Fodlan, he asked them to provide proof of their rank and which house they served. They couldn't, turns out they were just hired mercenaries pretending to be soldiers." His eyes then turned downcast. "Crisis averted I guess. But I wish he didn't…" he trailed off.

Lorenz swallowed. Oh goddess, they were killed! Not only that, but Lorenz suspected that the mercenaries were sent by his father. Sacrificial pawns to test the border for weaknesses to one day bring him home or most likely to sneak in a messenger.

"I-it would have been prudent to question them," Lorenz said, even as he was thankful that they didn't. Crisis averted, indeed.

"That's what I said. But Amu told me that the information they could provide us paled in comparison to what they would take back with them if they escaped. I hate to admit it, but he might be right."

Something in Lorenz's chest jumped. He waited for Claude to elaborate further but he didn't, simply closing his eyes.

Lorenz decided to drop it for now, if he tried to inquire much deeper, it would seem suspect.

"What did Gaspar say of me?" Lorenz asked. He knew Claude was still awake as his brow noticeably twitched.

"Don't worry about it," he grumbled, sounding angry. "It'll just ruin this nice mood we got going and I don't want to repeat them."

"Claude," Lorenz ground out irritably.

"Lorenz," Claude responded lightly with a smile. His eyes still shut.

"If your cousin is dangerous, I need to be made aware of that so I can act accordingly if we're caught alone."

"He's not dangerous. Just irritating," Claude snorted with a yawn. "He's the only son of Amu's many kids, a fact that Amu is not very pleased with. If one of his daughters was born a boy, she would be sitting at the table instead of Gaspar, but as it is, Amu is stuck with the hand he's been dealt."

"Such feelings must breed a lot of ill will," Lorenz commented.

"Yeah but it's directed at me," Claude huffed. "Amu doesn't even like me much either, so I don't see why Gaspar feels the need to prove something all the time. It's..." he trailed off in a yawn. "It's stupid."

Lorenz thought of Ferdinand and his similar obsessive drive to best Edelgard. He felt awful for thinking that, since his friend was a much more tolerable presence than the Prince's cousin. But there was still a common thread there that was worth noting. Different results born from the same complex.

"Maybe he just wants _you_ to acknowledge him."

Claude snorted in disbelief but said nothing more of the matter. For a moment, Lorenz had thought he had fallen asleep, but then he spoke again. "You've been asking me a lot of questions Ser Lorenz. Do I get to ask one?" Claude cracked an eye open ever so slightly.

Lorenz sighed, but waved his hand, bidding him to continue.

"How was your week?"

"Uneventful," Lorenz responded quickly, maybe a touch too quickly.

"I somehow doubt that." Claude chuckled, opening both eyes to regard Lorenz. His green eyes were devoid of humor and even though Claude was the one lounging back, Lorenz felt pinned by his gaze. "You did scare the piss out of our guards if I'm to take Nader at his word. What else happened?"

"...I may have confessed to your Spymaster the purpose of our betrothal." Lorenz confessed reluctantly.

Claude's smile dropped from his face, his eyes narrowed to a glare. "You what?"

"I know it was supposed to be secret, but would it not be beneficial to have someone else to help keep an eye on things!" Lorenz defended.

"No, she's just going to complicate things." Claude groaned reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to cause you grief." Lorenz frowned.

"No no, don't apologize for being too honest for your own good. I should have known she would try to corner you once I left." Claude sighed.

"...May I ask why you treat her so coldly?" Lorenz questioned. "Surely if her... _amorous_ affections were unwelcome, you could let her down more gently."

"Oh great, you noticed that?"

"She was rather obvious about it," Lorenz said with a snort. "And I'm not completely daft."

"That's debatable." Claude smiled mysteriously before shaking his head. "It's not my story to tell." He grumbled turning his head towards the window, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Let’s just say she's confused and leave it at that."

Lorenz wasn't so sure about that but if Claude wanted to drop the discussion, he would allow it for now. It was poor taste to gossip about someone that wasn't here anyway. At least Lorenz hoped she wasn't here, he couldn't be sure anymore.

"_You_ seem pretty protective of Simin." Claude smirked but it had a disingenuous edge to it. "Has she caught your discerning eye?"

Lorenz wanted to scoff just as he did the night before with Simin. Laugh and say that Simin was hardly his type, but something gave him pause. He used to say that a lot about every woman suggested to him or pointed to by Sylvain. Was he always so picky over appearance?

_Nonsense. _He thought, using the word like a bad habit to tamp down on those errant thoughts. _I just didn't **know** them. I can't be attracted to someone I don't know._

Claude's eyes started to slowly close, his head drooping forward in exhaustion before jerking back up, his eyes snapping open, before repeating the process. The prince was probably more exhausted than he initially let on and Lorenz thought he should probably kick him out before he falls asleep on his bed.

But against his better judgement he gently coaxed the prince to unfold his arms so Lorenz could reach up to unclasp the half cape on his left shoulder so it wouldn't wrinkle. Claude's eyes shot open, hands gripping tightly to Lorenz wrists as if to shove them away. Lorenz froze, keeping steady eye contact with the prince and slowly pulling his hands away just as Claude's grip slackened to let him. Their eyes never leaving the other.

"Ah sorry I thought…" Claude trailed off. He looked unsure of what to say.

Lorenz watched with a raised eyebrow, waiting patiently for Claude to further elaborate. When he didn't Lorenz sighed. "Would you feel better if I left to sleep in your room?"

Claude looked up at him, eyes wide. "I-I mean I could just-" he moved to get up making like he was going to leave. Strangely enough, Lorenz wanted nothing less.

"Sleep here," Lorenz ordered. "You are in no state to make the journey and I fear you'll trip and hurt yourself." He tsked. "Let me gather my things and I'll make the trip."

"No, no that's stupid," Claude huffed shaking his head. He seemed to be berating himself just as much as he was berating Lorenz. "Stay here and I'll deal. This bed is large enough for us both."

_He'll deal? Deal with what?_ Lorenz thought mildly offended. Was Lorenz so unpleasant that it was a chore to even sleep in the same room as him? The thought actually felt like a stab to the chest. 

Lorenz leered at him skeptically, searching for even the slightest indication of further discomfort as the prince stood up from the bed. However he forced himself to jerk his head away when Claude, with his back facing him, reached up to unclasp the cape himself.

Claude removed piece by piece of regalia, folding it with care and leaving it on a nearby nightstand, slowly and methodically. Lorenz quickly fussed about the room, pulling out his own sleepwear from his chest. He could tell from the reflection that Claude wasn't looking but Lorenz still felt self conscience, even as he unbuttoned the chokha and slipped the undershirt off his bare shoulders.

_You are being ridiculous! _He huffed at himself eyes closed as he slipped on a silken sleep shirt. _It's nothing he hasn't seen before, why are you feeling so embarrassed?!_

"Lorenz?"

Lorenz's heart leapt into his throat and he turned to face Claude, buttons only halfway done up. "Yes?"

Claude was staring, mouth slightly a gap as if he had forgotten what he was going to say. The majority of his layers removed, leaving him in his trousers and a thin undershirt. The plackets unlaced and open in an enticing V, exposing dark skin and a peek of even darker chest hair. Lorenz swallowed, twisting quickly back to the mirror to hurriedly button up his shirt.

"...You better not try and sleep on the floor," Claude murmured quietly, Lorenz watching as the prince's reflection settled onto the bed, scooching over to the farthest end of the bed, giving Lorenz ample space for when he decided to sleep.

Lorenz groaned inwardly burying his head in his hands. _Can you not stare at him like a wanton slag for five seconds?! No wonder he's so uncomfortable! _He thought, his face flushed hot with shame.

It seemed that even when Lorenz tried to tell himself not to be drawn in, his eyes just had a mind of their own. _Claude did say I was too honest for my own good. Seems I can no longer keep lying to myself._

It only took a few moments of silence before Claude was out, eyes closed and breathing soundly. His head lolling sideways on the pillow, with a soft snore. Lorenz huffed out a sigh, equal parts fond and relieved as he felt comfortable enough to finish dressing now that Claude wasn't awake to see him.

Lorenz made his way over to the side of the bed where Claude was resting to pluck a leather cord for his hair but was distracted by the sight before him. Lorenz had never seen the prince so at peace, so unguarded. His eyelashes fanned out against his cheek, lips ever so slightly parted. There was no denying, Claude was always handsome, but he looked magical like this, a fairytale prince awaiting a fair maiden's kiss. Lorenz snorted, turning away and tying his curtain of hair into a loose braid. 

Giving in to a small temptation, Lorenz reached an index finger over to flick back a stray lock of hair that had fallen in front of his face. He felt a sense of satisfaction doing it, like the feeling that arose when a mess was organized, where everything at last was in its proper place.

_Ridiculous_, he thought, feelings of joy, longing, and fear circling in his chest like a lovers’ waltz. He was reminded of the Garreg Mach Ball over two years ago. Of bearing witness to a secret dance between Ferdinand and Hubert, safe from prying eyes and wagging tongues.

_"Aw Lorenz look!" Hilda cooed, coming up beside him to wind an arm around his. "Looks like the gardenia flowers were well received. Good choice."_

_But Lorenz wasn't listening, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight. In all the years he'd known Ferdinand, he had never seen him so happy. His smile full of elation, as if he never wanted anything else. And Hubert, the man who smelled vaguely of formaldehyde and, just a month ago, held a knife to Lorenz's own throat, was looking at Ferdinand like he was the sun, the moon and the stars all at once._

_Lorenz considered himself fortunate to be born into nobility, he knew that his life was so privileged that he would never be left wanting for anything for the rest of his life. But watching them dance together, slow with the occasional stumble but with a quick enough adjustment to return to perfect synchrony, Lorenz found himself wanting and wanting **badly.**_

_The realization sent a stab of fear through him. A panic threatened to swallow him whole and destroy everything he had built within himself like a flood ripping through a dam. So he did what he always did when he was scared._

_He lashed out._

_"Uhg, what a disgusting display," Lorenz said, fully aware he was repeating words his father once said to him. He had put almost the same level of venom in the statement too. He inhaled sharply through his teeth as regret washed over him. He had not meant to say that out loud._

_Hilda glanced up at him, her soft gaze as she observed the couple's dance suddenly sharpened to revulsion when it was directed at Lorenz._

_"Disgusting?" She repeated slowly. "Enlighten me, how so?"_

_"I-it's a futile love," Lorenz snapped, tugging his arm free of the manicured nails digging painfully into his flesh. "What does it matter how they feel? They'll have to marry and produce heirs someday. This is just a temporary indulgence, a selfish phase." Lorenz could hear his voice becoming shaky with emotion. "Love is nothing but a childish dream for nobility." Those too were his father's words talking, whispering in his ear to remind him that greatness awaits him so long as he followed his example._

_Hilda's glare suddenly softened to a commiserating look. "Oh Lorenz…" she sighed shaking her head sadly as she reached her arms up to embrace him. Lorenz knew he should be happy at the attention, Sylvain once said he would give anything to feel Hilda's boobs crushed to his chest, but it all felt hollow, like he was lying to himself._

_"How long are you going to pretend not to know?" she murmured, lightly patting him on the back of his head. "You stupid, stupid man."_

_Lorenz clenched his eyes shut, envisioning himself burying his head in the sand so he wouldn't have to answer that question. He may as well, since his mouth and throat felt scratchy like he had swallowed a mouthful of sand._

_"If I can help it," Lorenz answered after a long pause, willing his romantic heart to turn to steel, "forever."_

It was a vow made, and a vow that dissolved, like a castle made from sugar. Lorenz stepped outside onto his balcony to get some much needed air. He felt as wound tight as a clock, tension locked in every muscle and joint as he gulped down deep lungfuls of air, _in and out._

_"You are safe."_

The memory of Darius' words doused his panic like a bucket of water doused flames. When the panic subsided, all that remained was a clear head. Lorenz was finally ready to make sense of the burgeoning, complicated feelings that plagued him.

A moment of introspection with only the stars around to judge him. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to accept what he had always known, but just pretended not to see. His gaze turned skyward to the stars above, the night clear enough that he could see and count every one.

He was shocked to find that he could recognize familiar constellations. That even this far away, he was looking at the exact same vast sky that existed over the Monastery. Just like then, his hand reached up to trace the shapes with his fingers. The Red Wolf, the Eagle, the Lovers, Lorenz dotted each star and traced their path. He paused at the star that represented where the Lovers were joined at the hip. The story goes that a man and woman were two halves, desperately searching to become whole with each other.

But what of men who sought men, women who sought women, or people like his professor who had no desire to seek anyone, were they just abominations of the Goddess?

_Am I an abomination? _The reluctant addition of the 'I' felt world-changing somehow. And yet it was also a simple fact of life, like how the sky was blue. He was far enough away from his father's listening ears and overwhelming presence. What could it hurt to try it on for tonight, just see how it fits?

"I'm gay," he whispered into the wind. The words settled into his chest like a revelation so he repeated them once more with additions, clarifying himself to no one _but_ himself. "I'm gay and I'm attacted to men more than women."

His eyes teared up. "I don't want to marry a woman, it will only make us both unhappy. She deserves better…" His lip curled up into a snarl, his fingers digging into the railing as he leaned forward. "_I_ deserve better!" he shouted due west into the wind. For a terrifying moment, he imagined his father hearing them. That the wind would carry his words right into his father’s ears.

But instead, the current changed. The wind blowing against his face in a caress that dried his eyes and made his heart soar. He turned back to Claude, an unknowing catalyst for this sudden revelation and, outside of letting out a soft murmur, he did not stir from his slumber.

He turned back to the view before him, the lanterns that lined the city streets blinking out as Almyra dozed off to sleep. With a soft smile, he placed the side of his index finger to his lips. "But it'll be our secret," he whispered softly, not quite sure who he was speaking to. It just felt like the right thing to say and he was feeling a bit caught up in the euphoria of the moment.

The rustling leaves below sounded oddly like laughter.


End file.
